


Role Reversal

by ace_writergirl



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Pezberry, body switch, brittana
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 144,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_writergirl/pseuds/ace_writergirl
Summary: AU with some parallels. Loosely based off Tina's body switching dream in 'Props'. Multiple pairings. A journey of discovery for Santana, Brittany, Rachel and Quinn.Very, very AU.
Relationships: Brittany S. Pierce/Noah Puckerman, Finn Hudson/Brittany S. Pierce, Quinn Fabray/Noah Puckerman, Rachel Berry/Santana Lopez, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 74
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

Santana Lopez pushed her black-rimmed glasses back up her nose as they slid down in her attempt to grab books from her locker. Of course, her locker was on the bottom row, making her a prime target for wayward kicks and the like.

"Hey, Lopez!"

Santana looked up just in time to see Artie Abrams, captain of the football team sending a blueberry slushie straight for her face. She squeezed her eyes closed because she hated the burning sensation that they always left. The icy drink hit her face and immediately started dripping down her t-shirt and into her bra.

"Fucking dickheads," she muttered, spitting some of the slushie onto the ground.

"What was that, Lupus?" Artie asked, leaning down so that his face was next to hers.

Santana took off her glasses and brushed the blue slushie from her eyes. She calmly blinked and put her glasses back on so that she could see again. Artie's smug face and big ass mouth were a few inches from hers. She swirled some slushie that was still in her mouth and spat it into his face.

"I _said_ , you're a fucking dickhead," Santana said calmly.

She stood up, violently shaking her long black hair and sending blue clumps of slushie everywhere. Students all around groaned their disapproval at her actions, but when they saw who it was, they just rolled their eyes and continued about their business.

Artie stood up and pushed Santana into the lockers behind her. She lost her footing on the slippery floor below her and crashed to the floor, her glasses flying off her face.

 _Crap. Now I can't see anything_.

Santana tried to focus on the blurs in front of her and saw one particularly big blur encompass most of her vision. She squinted.

"No one wants you at this school," Artie hissed. "You're weird and you're a freak."

"That kinda means the same thing, dumbass," Santana replied, shaking her hands of excess slushie.

She felt a hand grip her hair and pull her up painfully by it. She winced and tried to maintain a footing, but her Chucks couldn't seem to find any kind of solid grip on the slippery floor.

"Fuck," Santana muttered through gritted teeth.

"It seems like you need another lesson in how things work around here," Artie said menacingly. "And since it's the start of a new year, I'll give you a reminder. Us jocks take penthouse along with our beautiful Cheerios. All your creepy, talentless Glee buddies end up in the sub-basement. But _you_ , there's a special place for dykes like you."

"Oh, yeah, where's that?" Santana dared ask.

"Sewers."

"Really? I'll tell your mom I say hi when I get there. We had a great time the last time she swung by."

Santana knew that she'd probably overstepped with that remark, but she was so sick of being picked on by these jock losers. It wasn't her fault that they were so pea-brained that they couldn't accept that it was actually okay for someone to be gay. Ironically enough, it was fine for Cheerios to be gay; they didn't get treated any differently, but Santana took all the abuse and taunting and bullying so that her friends in Glee didn't have to.

Santana felt, rather than saw, Artie shove her backwards into the lockers. Her shoulder struck the edge of one of the handles and she winced at the explosion of pain and fell to the floor again.

"What is going on here?"

_Oh, thank God. Salvation._

"Just getting cosy with your students, Miss Sylvester," Artie replied conversationally. "I don't think she got the message I was trying to send."

"Maybe if you drew it in crayon?" Santana offered from her position on the floor. "I hear Coach Figgins is accepting that now."

"Abrams, don't make me send you to Schuester," Miss Sylvester warned.

Santana could hear the shuffle of the jocks walking away and she leaned her head against the locker, resting her eyes. She could feel the slushie residuals slowly sneaking into her jeans.

_Fucking great. I only have an extra shirt here. It's not even first period and I have to deal with remnants of blueberry slushie in my jeans._

"Santana?"

"I'm okay," she mumbled. "Could you see if you can find my specs? I can't see anything."

"Here they are," another softer voice said.

"Thanks, Quinnie," Santana said, holding her hand out. She felt the frame being pressed into her palm and put them on.

"Ah, to see the world in all its ugliness,' she quipped. "Maybe I should just stay blind."

"You're suck a dork," Quinn said with a smile.

Santana shrugged and pushed herself up, her shoulder jarring against the door. She hissed in pain and turned her head to see a red mark on her shirt. She frowned and lifted the sleeve to show a small cut in her shoulder where she'd hit the handle.

"What in the hell happened, San?" Quinn cried, gripping Santana's arm.

"Easy on the lock down, Quinnie," Santana said, trying to shake her arm free. "I just hit my shoulder is all. It'll be fine. Miss Sylvester, do you think I could be excused from my first period to get cleaned up? Or at least have a late pass? I can't sit in this stickiness all day."

Sue Sylvester nodded. "Come and pick it up from my office when you're done, Santana."

The Latina turned back to her locker and grimaced. Her textbooks and notebooks were covered in slushie.

"Fuck!" she swore under her breath. "This is just really inconvenient."

"San," Quinn said sympathetically.

"Don't, Quinnie," Santana interrupted, holding up her hand. "I stand by what I told those assholes last year, okay? I'm not about to let everyone in New Directions suffer because we go to school with a bunch of close-minded ignoramuses."

"I don't think that's a word."

"Of course it's a word!" Santana snapped, pulling her extra shirt out from the back of her locker. "It's of Latin origin circa the sixteenth century."

"Seriously, you say stuff like that and you wonder why people treat you like you're a weirdo." Quinn shook her head.

"Wow, so nice to know that I have a best friend who supports me," Santana said dryly. She pulled out the books she'd need for her classes until lunch.

"I'll see you in Physics," Santana mumbled, heading for the locker room.

She dumped her books on the bench, grimacing at the sticky blue slushie now covering her hands.

"So gross," she muttered, her voice echoing slightly in the empty locker room.

She put her bag in her gym locker and pulled out her body wash and shampoo. After being slushie target practice for the final two months of her freshman year and apparently the start of sophomore year too, Santana was always prepared. Miss Sylvester had tried time and time again to talk Santana out of the arrangement she had with the jocks and cheerleaders. She didn't think it was fair that Santana bore the brunt of the bullying. Of course, Principal Schuester was so oblivious to what was happening because he was too focused on making sure that Emma Pillsbury was always happy. And that meant that the Cheerios got whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted.

_Fucking cheerleaders._

Santana rolled her eyes and pulled her ruined shirt off. She frowned. It was one of her favourites too. It was difficult for her to find Captain America shirts in her size. She'd have to give it to her mom to take to the dry cleaners. Maybe they could salvage it.

She reached inside her locker and pulled out one of the plastic bags she kept there, stuffing her dirty shirt inside and putting it in her backpack. She was reminded of the condition of her books and went to grab some paper towels before straddling the bench and wiping them off. The notebooks weren't a problem – she had plenty of those at home. The textbooks, however, were school property and her parents would kill her if they had to fork out cash to cover them. They'd tell her to cover the cost and she really didn't want to dip into the savings for her new computer.

Santana pulled her headphones out of her bag, loaded up Spotify and hit shuffle on her _Slushie Clean Up Crew_ playlist. She let the music wash over her as she carefully cleaned off the excess slushie mess on her books.

* * *

"Look, all I'm saying is that you could at least _talk_ to her about it," Rachel Berry said, rolling her eyes. "Coach Pillsbury might even go for it."

"Rach, I don't _care_ what Coach Em says," Brittany Pierce replied hotly, flicking her long blonde ponytail over her shoulder. "Puck is obviously just going through some sort of mid-high school crisis thing."

"Mid-high school crisis is growing his hair into that ridiculous Mohawk," Rachel replied, pausing at her locker and spinning the dial "It is _not_ joining the fucking _Glee_ Club. What in the hell did you do to him to make him go there to get his kicks?"

"Excuse me?" Brittany asked, drawing herself to her full height and towering over the petit (but lethally strong) brunette. "You wanna run that by me again, Berry?"

"Jesus, relax," Rachel chuckled. "Defensive, much?"

Brittany snorted and folded her arms as she waited impatiently for Rachel to get her books out. Puck, her on again, off again plaything, had decided to completely fuck her reputation down the toilet and go and join the retards of Glee Club.

The previous week, everything had been pretty fucking dandy. She'd had a solid, reliable booty call and some decent man candy when she needed it. Hey, as Head Cheerio, she needed to keep up appearances. It had been a huge shock at cheer booty camp that summer when Emma Pillsbury had named Brittany, a _sophomore_ , as her new captain. Needless to say, the seniors were very unhappy, but before Coach Em had had a chance to chew them out, Brittany had beaten her to it. Needless to say, Brittany's leadership abilities hadn't been questioned again.

Then, out of fucking _nowhere_ , Puck came up to her and said that he was in Glee Club and they couldn't see each other anymore. When Brittany had demanded an explanation, he'd vaguely mumbled something about priorities in life.

Brittany had done her due diligence and given him a very public backhand through the face (she was pretty sure his face was still bruised) and as far as the school was concerned, _she'd_ dumped _him_.

But one question burned. Why? What was in Glee Club that had Puck completely captivated? Unless…

"Oh, _hell_ , no," Brittany breathed.

Rachel slammed her locker closed and looked up at Brittany in confusion. "What?"

"What if he joined Retards R Us because of a _guy_?" Brittany whispered conspiratorially.

Rachel raised an eyebrow and headed for the locker room. "Okay, first of all, _Puck_? Gay? My gaydar is idiot proof. Trust me, I would've seen that one coming. And second, being gay wouldn't hurt any of us. We're the top dogs."

"Just because _you_ like chasing muff, doesn't mean it's for the rest of us," Brittany snipped, stopping at the locker room. "Why are we here?" It didn't matter that they were late for first period. All the teachers were so petrified of the 'Ginger Ninja' (self-proclaimed) that her Cheerios, _especially_ her Head Cheerio, could pretty much do whatever they wanted.

"I forgot my spankies after morning practice," Rachel said with a smirk, twirling her short skirt and advertising the black thong she was wearing.

"Christ, Rachel, I don't need to see that shit," Brittany said, making a face.

Rachel chuckled and pushed the door open, heading straight for the back of the girls' locker room that housed the Cheerios' private showers and lockers.

Rachel grabbed her spankies from her locker and pulled them on, checking her perfect make up and blowing a kiss at her reflection.

They turned to leave when a sound caught Brittany's attention. She held up a hand to stop Rachel and headed toward the source. As they got closer to the normal lockers, Brittany could hear someone singing softly. Whoever it was had a pretty good voice, not that Brittany knew much about singing.

Rachel poked her and raised an eyebrow. Brittany just shrugged in response.

_“We only said goodbye with words. I died a hundred times. You go back to her and I go back to…I go back to us…”_

Brittany peered around the corner and the first thing she saw was a bare tan back with long dark hair that was kinda sticking up everywhere.

"I know her," Rachel whispered. "That's Santana Lopez. She's in Glee Club. And she's the only other out lesbian at school."

Brittany rolled her eyes at Rachel's predatory look. "Yeah, I also heard that she does that live action role playing on the weekends and that she's on the school decathlon team. You really wanna slum it, Rach?"

Brittany let her eyes wander over the school weirdo. She wore the lamest t-shirts to school every day and got a slushie at least three times a week. She knew because she was the one who had issued the order. Towards the end of last year, Santana 'Lupus' Lopez had approached the jock and cheerleader tables in the cafeteria and demanded that if they were going to slushie or dumpster-toss anyone that it be her and they were forbidden to touch any of the other Glee Club members.

She'd looked pretty fierce and determined and hey, who didn't love an easy target? The jocks were guaranteed a slushie attack and order was maintained. They definitely couldn't have the damn show choir degenerates thinking that they were better than they were.

 _And you want to join them_.

"Pffft," Brittany said aloud, causing Rachel to give her a strange look.

"Come on," Brittany said. "I think you've got enough for your spank bank."

Rachel blushed a little, but Brittany saw her eyes rake over Santana’s tanned, toned half-naked body.

Not that she'd noticed or whatever. Please, she was _so_ not into that. Puck could _definitely_ vouch for that. Oh, crap. What if _she'd_ turned him gay?

She would honestly die if he came out of the fucking closet after having been with her.

She sent him a quick text.

_Puckerman, if you turn fag, I will personally castrate you._

Feeling a little better, Brittany slipped her phone back into her bra and headed to Physics.

* * *

Rachel couldn't stop thinking about Santana. Sure, she was a little batshit crazy, but there was surely something to be said about crazy people – sex with them was _awesome_. And Rachel Berry could definitely use some awesome sex.

Being openly gay had its advantages. Over the summer, she'd been laid a good number of times, sometimes with repeat performances. Ninety percent of those conquests had been girls who were curious and Rachel had simply shown them a good time. She wasn't about converting every girl that she came across. If a good time was on offer, then Rachel took it and ran – straight to her bedroom.

She'd heard the rumours about Santana just before Christmas in freshman year, after some wannabe popular junior had seen her making out with another girl in a movie theatre. It had spread like wildfire after that and when they'd all come back after winter break, Santana didn't seem to care what people thought of her. She took the daily slushies and weekly dumpster tosses without complaint and even though Rachel wouldn't have been caught dead talking to her, part of her did admire Santana for her determination.

Rachel had always known she was gay. She had two dads so homosexuality was hardly an unknown thing to her. When she was ten and realised that she watched the girls during her swim meets more than the boys, she figured that maybe she liked girls. She had her first kiss at age twelve with one of the girls from cheer camp. She'd run away crying afterwards, but the experience had later only cemented Rachel's realisation that she _definitely_ liked girls. She didn't need to validate it by kissing or sleeping with boys, unlike Brittany.

Her friendship with Brittany was unorthodox, to say the least. They were both arrogant, overpowering and promiscuous. It was an inevitability that they would be the top two at McKinley within a year. Brittany had taken Rachel under her wing at their first cheer camp at the age of eleven. The brunette had told Brittany about her female preference and Brittany had, at first, shunned the idea, but after seeing Rachel's confidence and skill, she'd decided that they would be best buddies and they'd steadily become a formidable duo. Rachel had understood the hierarchy and let Brittany take the top dog spot. She was quite happy to play second fiddle because it meant she still got to do what she wanted to without being in the spotlight as much as Brittany.

Rachel came out right after Santana, when they came back from winter break in freshman year. She'd been snapped by a fellow Cheerio walking a prospective lay back to her house. Needless to say, the picture had been…saucy. Rachel hadn't cared and her dads had made sure that Schuester wouldn't let any harm come to their precious Cheerio with all sorts of threats. Rachel smirked to herself. Schuester didn't cope well with threats. She'd lost count of how much shit she and Brittany had gotten away with by simply mentioning having a certain mayor's name on speed dial.

So…Santana.

The nickname had been one of Brittany's more genius creations. Santana hardly did anything to discourage people's opinions of her, but she also didn't seem to care. So, Brittany and Rachel had kind of ignored her after the first week of solo Santana attacks. It was easy to get bored seeing the same person with a different colour covering their face day after day.

As they walked towards Physics, Rachel's mind ran through the image of the Latina's body. She definitely hadn't thought Santana was hiding _that_ under those unflattering clothes she always wore.

 _Hmm, her jeans are actually always pretty form fitting and her shirts aren’t baggy – in fact they’re quite tight_. Rachel didn't even think that they made shirts like that for girls. She always looked comfortable and kinda sexy in her own way.

 _Now that I know what’s going on underneath those clothes, maybe this idea of Britt’s to join Glee Club isn’t such a bad one._ Britt could sort out whatever her issue with Puck was, and _she_ could put in some face time with Santana.

After all, she had to get _some_ kind of action with the only other lesbian at McKinley. Right?

* * *

Santana ran to get to her last class. She'd ended up getting carried away, talking to Mr. Jones about quadratic equations and decided to take a shortcut past Emma Pillsbury's office even though the entire corridor was off limits to anyone not wearing a ridiculously short red skirt. She felt a book starting to slip out from her overcrowded arms and, still running, tried to keep it in place, momentarily taking her eyes off the path ahead of her. The next thing she knew, she had collided with someone at full sprint, sending her flying through the air and landing hard on her already injured shoulder.

Santana groaned in pain and rolled around, trying to stand up. At least her glasses had stayed on her face this time, miracle of miracles. Her arms were empty though, which meant that all her books and notes were now scattered around the floor.

_Fuck! Fuck! I’m going to be late for Spanish._

Santana hated being late for class, even if it was for a subject that she was fluent in.

"Who the _fuck_?" someone growled as they picked themselves off the floor at Emma Pillsbury's doorway. "Oh."

Santana pushed herself up, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. She started gathering her books together when someone handed her a small pile. She looked up and saw Rachel Berry smiling down at her.

_Rachel Berry? Cheerio Rachel Berry is smiling at me. Me. Santana 'Lupus" Lopez. Santana Slowpez. Nicknames that she helped manifest._

Santana glared at the Cheerio. "Thanks," she said through gritted teeth. She took the books roughly and stood up, quickly picking up the rest of her stuff.

"Santana!"

She froze. Had Rachel Berry just willingly called her name? Her _first_ name? She turned around slowly and saw Rachel jogging up to her.

"Uh, your shoulder is bleeding," Rachel said, pointing to the red spot on Santana's white shirt.

Santana rolled her eyes. "That's nothing. I'll be fine."

She turned around and continued her quick walk to Spanish, trying to shake off the feeling that Rachel was staring at her.

* * *

"Please tell me this is some kind of joke," Emma Pillsbury spat, looking down in disgust at her Head Cheerio.

Brittany held her strong gaze, determined not to let Coach Em get the better of her.

"Coach, you're always talking about how those Glee kids shouldn't even be allowed on the premises at the school. For some reason, Sue Sylvester has managed to keep them from being cut from the school programme. And also, apparently there's some TV show that's made show choir popular or something." Brittany waved her hand dismissively. "With me and Rachel on the inside, we can finally take them down and you can go back to making sure that our school remains clean of losers like them."

Coach Pillsbury sat back in her chair and threaded her gloved hands together. Nobody dared ask the reason why she always wore gloves, but there were some interesting hypotheses flying around, a few of which Brittany had originated herself.

"Fierce Pierce. That's what they called you at junior high, I believe?"

Brittany nodded once.

Coach Pillsbury stared at Brittany for a few minutes before standing up abruptly and walking to her wall of photographs. She stopped at the previous year's national championship picture.

"Brittany, this year I will claim the undisputed seventh consecutive national championship. No coach has ever done it before. Not in Ohio, not _ever_. This is my number one priority this year. Are we clear?"

Her big eyes pierced Brittany's and she held the gaze. She could do this. Coach Em thought she could and she _had_ to prove that she was capable.

"Crystal," Brittany replied with a tilt of her head.

Coach Pillsbury turned her head, which Brittany took as her cue to leave. As she closed the door behind her, she saw Rachel watching a dark-haired girl run down the hall.

"Was that-"

"Oh!" Rachel said in surprise, spinning around.

"Rach," Brittany said warningly.

"We ran into each other," Rachel shrugged. "Like, literally. It's fine."

Brittany eyed her friend carefully. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Oh, what? Like join Glee Club?"

Brittany rolled her eyes and headed for her locker. Rachel jogged to catch up with her.

"So, we're really doing this?" she asked hesitantly.

Brittany nodded. "I got the go ahead from Coach Em. I just need to know what the fuck is going on with him. Once I know, we'll focus on bringing them down."

Rachel didn't say anything and just followed Brittany.

* * *

Santana was doing a handstand when Miss Sylvester walked into Glee. Quinn and Puck were cheering her on and even though Miss Sylvester told her to right herself up, Santana just straightened her legs and held her stance. She'd stopped gymnastics when she'd started high school, but you don't forget that shit, no matter how hard you try.

Santana walked (on her hands) to the chairs and pushed herself up onto the first step and then onto the second step where she always sat. Her bag was already waiting by her chair. She just enjoyed goofing off sometimes. At the end of the day, most of the Glee kids just wanted to laugh and forget about the shit and remember the awesome part, which was Glee.

Santana had always sung, for as long as she could remember. Her older brother had mentioned that she had a really good voice when she was about eight and she'd taken it to heart. She practised her singing every week and joined choir in middle school. She was disappointed to find out that there wasn't a choir at McKinley High, but show choir was actually better because she got to dance and she hadn't been able to do anything like that since her gym days.

Santana righted herself up and immediately did a back flip back down to the bottom. The Glee Club erupted into cheers and Santana took a dramatic bow.

"What, no roses for your performer?" she teased. "Such heedless confederates."

"Santana, seriously. You speak like that and expect us to understand you," Mercedes droned, giving her a bored look.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Ill-educated ingrates, the lot of you!" she declared, grinning and walking back to her seat.

That was when she noticed Miss Sylvester standing with two girls in Cheerios uniforms.

_What. The. Fuck._

"Now that Santana had finally decided to vacate the floor, I have some announcements," Miss Sylvester said. "Firstly, you all know what our policy is regarding new members, so I'd like to welcome-"

"Um, I'm sorry, _new members_?" Quinn interrupted loudly. "Am I the only one that sees espionage written all over this?"

"Uh, I think she may be right, Miss Sylvester," Puck chimed in.

Santana didn't say anything and simply folded her arms, watching the reactions of the two cheerleaders.

"Quinn, I really don't think you have to worry about these two taking any of your solos," Tina said dryly, resetting her tight skirt.

Santana didn't need to see Quinn’s face to know that she was rolling her eyes. Quinn stood up and Santana sighed, leaning forward to pull her friend back down before she'd even had the chance to open her mouth. Quinn turned around and gave her a dirty look, but Santana just raised an eyebrow and sat back again. Quinn knew that Santana was only looking out for her. She had a mouth that didn't have an off switch.

"I believe that Brittany and Rachel have prepared a number to perform for you today," Miss Sylvester said, stepping back to allow the cheerleaders to take the floor.

Santana bit back a smirk.

_This should be interesting._

* * *

_Holy crap_.

Rachel tried to control her breathing. She was actually nervous and it absolutely had _nothing_ to do with how she'd gotten a full show of Santana's toned stomach and a glimpse of a white bra when she'd been walking upside down. Admittedly, Santana had really good form and balance, and she'd pulled off that back flip without a second thought.

_Focus._

Rachel glanced up at Brittany who gave her a reassuring smile. They'd only gone over the number a few times before school, but Rachel had never even heard of it before. Brittany had said that the geeks would love it so she'd memorised the song the previous day and they'd gone over a little choreography that morning – they were Cheerios, after all. They couldn't have a performance without choreography.

Miss Sylvester hit play on the sound system and the small choir room filled with the sounds of _Anything You Can Do_ from _Annie, Get Your Gun_. Rachel took the lines of Annie Oakley and Brittany, having the deeper voice, took Frank Butler's parts.

It was a performance and both of them were pros. Every Cheerios practice was essentially a performance and Brittany and Rachel already played really well off one another so Rachel channelled that energy into her singing. The impressed and surprised looks on the faces of the glee clubbers boosted her confidence.

_Huh, guess I can sing._

_“Anything you can sing, I can sing higher,”_ Rachel sang, smirking at Britt _._

They went back and forth as most of the song required them to do.

_“Yes, I can!”_

When Rachel hit the high note, she could see the shock on everyone's faces, and took special note of Santana's impressed nod as her foot swung to the beat of the song. Rachel grinned at Brittany as they played out the soft arguing and Rachel belted out the final line in the chorus. She was glad that their choreography was simple because the actual singing was taking a lot out of her.

They headed into what felt like the tenth verse and Rachel couldn’t help but wonder if all musical numbers were so never-ending and exhausting. She was breathing heavily when they finally finished and was genuinely surprised to see the entire Glee Club on their feet and applauding. She glanced at Brittany, but she only had her eyes on Puck who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

Rachel let her gaze travel to Santana. Santana had a soft smile as she applauded. Their eyes met and Rachel smiled shyly. She couldn't understand why she was being like this. She was Rachel fucking Berry for Christ's sake! She didn’t think about just one girl for an entire day.

 _If you turn to mush around her, I_ will _disown you_.

Great, her own conscience was turning on her. She raised her eyes and saw Santana look at her in slight confusion. She'd stopped clapping and was sitting down again, her arms folded across her chest.

"Well, I think it's safe to say, welcome to New Directions!" Miss Sylvester said with a big smile.

Rachel heard Brittany snort quietly at the name, but it was drowned out by the applause that started up again. Santana had her notebook out and was writing something down. Rachel sighed. There was definitely something about her that intrigued Rachel. Maybe it was her nonchalance, maybe it was her hidden sexiness, maybe it was her determination to stand up for her friends. Whatever it was, Rachel was adamant to get close enough to find out how Santana Lopez was managing to dodge all her tactics.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

“Rachel, what are you _talking_ about?” Brittany asked in exasperation, taking a sip of her iced latte. “Are you even _listening_ to yourself? God!”

They were walking through the mall, looking for outfits for Artie’s kick-off-the-season party that Friday. Brittany was looking for the perfect pair of heels to go with her sexy black number that she had found. It was one of her last chances in a rapidly closing window to find out what the _fuck_ was going on with Puck. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to commit social suicide by not showing up to the party.

“Is it really that surprising that I’m thinking about our Glee assignment for this week?” Rachel asked.

“Yes,” Brittany replied as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We’re not there to actually partake. We’re Coach Em’s spies. Which means no drawing attention to yourself!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rachel replied, tossing her loose hair over her shoulder.

“Oh, please!” Brittany scoffed. “You have been staring at Santana Lopez for the last two weeks. Every time she sings, you start drooling. Keep in your fucking pants, won’t you?”

Rachel grinned. “Is that the little green monster talking? Cos the last time I checked, you weren’t getting it _out_ of your pants.”

Brittany stopped and glared at her. “If I didn’t really want this latte, you’d be washing it out of your hair in about five seconds.”

“Oh, please,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “You can play the HBIC to everyone else, but I know _everything_ about you.”

“Oh, yeah, like what?” Brittany challenged.

“Like when we were thirteen you discovered you had that boil-“

“Okay, Jesus, shut the fuck up,” Brittany hushed her, totally forgetting about that nightmare spring break.

Rachel just laughed and looked up as they walked past Victoria’s Secret. Brittany followed her inside out of habit than anything else. Pretty much all her lingerie came from VS.

“What do you think?” Rachel asked, holding up a black and red polka dot push up bra.

“Your training bra too small?” Brittany quipped, looking at the negligees.

“Oh, ha, ha,” Rachel replied dryly. “I see the lack of sex has really affected your humour.”

“Please. Do you honestly think Puck is the only guy I’ve ever slept with?”

“Oh, I know he isn’t,” Rachel replied. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you can’t handle your numero uno plaything going off to play with someone else. Who do you think it is, by the way? Personally, my bet’s on Queen Latifah.”

“You are joking,” Brittany said, raising an eyebrow and chewing on her straw.

Rachel shrugged and held up a matching red lace bra and thong set against her bust and studied it in the mirror. “You think he’s banging Diva Quinn? Pfft. That girl’s legs are tied tighter than Coach Em’s OCD.”

“Hey, you know we’re not supposed to talk about that,’ Brittany warned, looking around. “If she found out that we knew, we’d be off the squad.”

“No sex makes you really touchy,” Rachel observed. She cocked her head in thought. “Which is actually ironic, considering you’re not being touched.” She chuckled at her own joke before grabbing a few sets and going into the dressing room.

“Hey, San,” Brittany heard the sales lady behind the desk greet.

“Greetings, fair Elizabeth,” a familiar voice replied.

Brittany turned around and saw Santana Lopez leaning over the counter, smiling at the sales assistant. She ducked behind the rack she was standing against.

_Wait, why the fuck am I hiding?_

“You’re such a dork, San,” she heard the sales assistant say, laughing.

“Some girls really go for that.”

Was this Santana _flirting_? Okay, she’d seen Rachel do her thing and it was a lot more suave than whatever the hell it was she was doing. Brittany couldn’t help but stay hidden in order to hear how the inevitable disaster played out.

“Yeah, lucky for me, I’m not one of those girls,” the sales assistant teased.

_Burn._

“Lucky for me, you’re not my type. Say, is Denise working today? I need to get last month’s order from her.”

“Why? You came in and got it. I remember; I helped you.”

“And she helped me out of them,” Santana laughed.

 _Okay, maybe not_.

“It’s all in the Jedi mind tricks,” Santana said mysteriously.

_What. The. Fuck? This shit actually works on girls?_

The sales assistant laughed again and Brittany rolled her eyes. It seemed that girls were just dumb, regardless of who was hitting on them.

“So, you want your order?”

“Yes, please,” Santana said, clapping her hands.

“Please remind your brother that just because I work in a lingerie store, I do _not_ get to take home free samples.”

“Ew, Liz. I don’t need to be reminded about you and my brother doing the horizontal fandango.”

Brittany had to stifle a laugh at that. Horizontal fandango?

“He’s fetching me when I finish work. Remind him, please?”

“There’s this nifty little invention called a cellular device, more commonly known as a cell phone,” Santana said dryly.

“Angelo keeps losing his.”

“I swear, I’m going to fucking staple it to his forehead,” Santana said hotly.

 _Whoa, nerdy girl has some colourful language_.

“B, what about this one?”

Brittany turned and saw Rachel standing in front of her in a _very_ risqué deep purple corseted top with matching lace thong.

“What are you doing on the floor?” Rachel asked, furrowing her brow.

Brittany grimaced and stood up. “Got sick of standing and waiting for your fat ass.”

Rachel shrugged and did a twirl. “So, what do you think?”

She froze mid twirl when she saw that it wasn’t just them in the store anymore. Brittany glanced at Santana and the sales assistant. The latter didn’t look too perturbed and Santana just held a bag in her hand, looking at Rachel with an arched eyebrow.

“Santana, what do you think?” Rachel asked, and Brittany had to give her props for her confidence.

Santana cocked her head. “Purple? Not sure about the colour. There’s a baby pink one that would look _much_ better.”

Rachel smirked. “It’s not too tight?”

Santana scrunched up her nose. “The last knot could be a _little_ tighter.”

Brittany watched at Rachel lock gazes with Santana and suddenly no words were needed for the eye sex that was happening between the two.

“Okay, Jesus, could you two get a fucking room or something?” Brittany snapped, turning around and walking out. “I’ll meet you at Louis, Rach.”

* * *

Santana ignored Brittany’s melodramatic exit and held Rachel’s gaze. The girl was giving her serious vibes, but she wasn’t stupid enough to get on that bandwagon. Sure, she was hot, especially parading around in practically nothing. But Rachel Berry had a reputation, and Santana Lopez would simply be another statistic. Besides, it was just way too stereotypical that they only two out lesbians at high school should automatically hook up.

“Baby pink, huh?” Rachel asked, raising an inviting eyebrow.

Santana shrugged. “It’s ironic.”

“How so?”

“Because you’re anything but innocent,” Santana replied, waving to Liz and walking out of the store.

* * *

Rachel dropped her jaw and stared after Santana. She slowly turned around, found said baby pink set and went to back to the dressing room to change. She didn’t even try on the baby pink set and took it straight to the sales assistant when she was done.

“You know Santana?” the sales assistant asked conversationally.

“Uh, yeah, we go to school together.”

“Handful, isn’t she?”

“Hmmm. I didn’t even think she shopped in places like this.”

“Oh, she orders two new sets every month. Comes in like clockwork.”

Rachel’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” A smile crossed her face. “I don’t suppose you happen to know what it was that she ordered?”

The sales assistant paused. “I’m sorry. You guys obviously have something going on or whatever, but I’m not allowed to give out those records.”

“Pretty girl like you? I’m sure you know off the top of her head what she got. No need to check the records.”

The sales assistant shook her head and smiled. “You’re one of those girls that isn’t used to hearing no, aren’t you?”

Rachel smiled and shook her head. The sales assistant – her name was Elizabeth according to her badge – sighed and walked around to the bra and pantie sets.

“She generally orders this kind of thing. She likes feeling sexy or something, I dunno. I generally tune her out when she starts speaking because she goes off on tangents.”

Rachel grinned. She had noticed that in the last two weeks. More often than not, Santana would start talking about something and completely overcomplicate it by using big words so that no one could actually understand her. Rachel secretly thought it was kinda of cute. She really was such a dork. But like, a strangely sexy, hot dork. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but Rachel wanted Santana Lopez in a bad way.

“So, what did she get for this month?” Rachel asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth held up two sets and Rachel’s mouth dropped open. Oh, things were about to get _remarkably interesting_ between her and Santana.

* * *

“Don’t forget to fetch Liz from work,” Santana announced, walking through the door.

“Well, hello to you too,” Santana’s oldest brother chuckled from the couch.

Santana stuck her tongue out and ran upstairs with her new purchases. Once upstairs, she tried both sets on and modelled them in front of her full-length mirror. She generally dressed pretty casually, but she _loved_ her lingerie. She’d first come across a VS catalogue at the age of thirteen waiting for her mom at the salon. Santana knew she had a good body – eight years of gymnastics had ensured that she was toned and slim. Even though she hadn’t competed since she was fourteen, she kept up her diet and exercise.

There was a knock on her door.

“ _Mija_?”

“Come in, Mom,” Santana called, reaching to her desk for a pair of scissors to cut the tags off her new purchases.

“Those look nice,” Santana’s mother commented with a smile.

“Just got ‘em.”

Santana and her mother had a fantastic relationship. Carmen Lopez’s sister was also gay, so when Santana had told her at thirteen that she preferred girls, it wasn’t a problem. Being the only girl after three boys, Santana and her mother had quickly developed a very close bond. Even though Santana was gay and a little goofy, she was still a girl. She got her hair and nails done with her mom and gossiped. She wouldn’t change it for anything.

“I had some news today,” Carmen said, sitting on Santana’s bed.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Gina is getting married!” Carmen squealed.

“Shut up!” Santana yelled, grinning widely. She threw her arms around her mother. “Oh my God, I have to call her!” She picked up her phone from her dressing table and hit one of her speed dials

“Hola, Santa,” a cheery voice answered.

“Gina, my mom just told me! Congratulations!”

“Thanks, sweetie. It was only a matter of time, y’know. Carrie knew she had to tie me down before someone else came to snatch me up.”

Santana laughed. All the women in the Lopez family were close. “Have you guys set a date?”

“Carrie doesn’t want a winter wedding, but I don’t wanna wait till spring or summer so we’re not actually sure yet.”

“You’ll keep me informed though? I wanna help you guys plan!”

“Well, I was actually hoping that you might be a bridesmaid,” Gina said hesitantly.

“Seriously?” Santana asked.

“Yeah.”

“Totally. Wait, do I have to wear a dress?”

“Yes,” Gina chuckled. “You can wear a suit to your own wedding.”

“Well, if I _have_ to,” Santana said dramatically, even though they both knew it was for show. Santana possessed several dresses and even wore them on occasion.

“Love you, Santa. We should go for lunch again soon.”

“Love you, too. Let me know when you’re free for a Saturday afternoon.”

They hung up and Santana flopped onto her bed, facing the ceiling. “I’m so happy for her,” she said with a grin.

“You remind me a lot of her,” Carmen said, tucking her daughter’s long hair behind her ear.

“Psshh. I’m totally awesomer than Gina.”

“Yes, you definitely have her modesty,” Carmen laughed. She stood up. “Oh, any dry cleaning today?”

“Nope,” Santana replied.

“Today was a good day, then?”

Santana shrugged. She heard her mother sigh.

“Mama, we never argue about anything so let’s not start with this, okay?” she said, pinching her nose where her glasses rested.

“Fine,” Carmen said reluctantly. “Put some clothes on, would you? Your father will have a fit if you come to dinner wearing that.”

Santana grinned wickedly at the thought.

“Don’t you dare, Santana Lopez!” Carmen warned, walking down the stairs. “I _will_ take away your laptop.”

Santana gasped at the injustice of depriving her of her sanctuary. She rolled onto her stomach and scrolled through her contacts, suddenly remembering their assignment for Glee.

“Hey, Q,” Santana greeted.

“Oh, um, hi, San.”  
”Everything okay?” Santana asked with a frown.

“Uh, yeah. What’s up?”

“So, this assignment for Glee. What are we gonna sing?”

“Oh, uh, well, _actually,_ I’ve, um, found another partner to sing a duet with,” Quinn said quietly.

Santana frowned in confusion. She and Quinn had always done their duets together.

“San?”

“Silent treatment of twenty-four hours starts now,” Santana replied, hanging up.

She didn’t care if she was being petty or overdramatic. She had her ways of dealing with people treating her less than what she felt like she deserved. Quinn was supposed to be her best friend; a heads up would’ve at least been nice.

Santana got up off her bed, closed her door and took off her lingerie, swapping them for some running shorts and a tank top. She pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail, pulled on her running shoes and grabbed her phone.

“Going for a run,” she yelled as she descended the stairs.

“Dinner in half an hour, _mija_ ,” Carmen called from the kitchen.

“K,” Santana replied, putting in her earphones and letting the music wash over her as she started her route.

* * *

The reprieve from the previous day didn’t last very long and between second and third period, Santana found herself picking cherry slushie out of her bra again. She was still pissed at Quinn, who hadn’t even attempted to talk to her, even though they’d passed each other three times in the hall already. Having the icy stickiness dripping down her back just topped her morning off.

Santana went straight to the locker room and grabbed her stuff to shower. She was just clipping her bra back on when she heard someone behind her.

“Kinda pervy,” she commented, not turning around to see who it was.

“Not the word I would use to describe you,” a familiar voice said.

Santana glanced back and rolled her eyes at Rachel leaning against the last locker.

“What do you want?”

When Rachel didn’t answer her, Santana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing her temper to simmer. The last thing she needed was to insult one of the top Cheerios. She pulled on her jeans and reached for her clean t-shirt and pulled it over her wet hair. Her glasses slid down her nose as she popped her head through the neck hole, but before she could push them up, someone else did it for her. Her vision now focused, she saw Rachel standing right in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Santana frowned irritably.

“Helping you,” Rachel shrugged.

“Does it look like I need help?” Santana snapped.

“Look, I know you probably hate me because out of the two of us, you’re the only one getting slushies even though we’re both out and in Glee.”

“Guess your social standing affords you a certain immunity,” Santana grumbled, running her brush roughly through her long hair. It was already going to look like Diana Ross’s Frankenstein twin by the time lunch ended and after the morning she’d already had, she really couldn’t care less.

“Wait, I’ve got some stuff to calm the frizz,” Rachel said, suddenly disappearing.

Santana frowned. _Is this some new form of torture?_ she wondered. Pretend to be nice to the weird kid and catch her unawares? Well, she’d seen that film several times and she wasn’t about to fall for the punch line. She grabbed her bags and left the locker room before Rachel came back.

* * *

Santana was miserable by the time Glee came around. Her mood rolled off her in waves and her fellow Glee Club members picked up on it immediately, giving her a wide berth. Miss Sylvester also picked up on it and suggested that people break up into their duet partnerships,

Which didn’t help Santana’s situation as she saw Quinn move next to Puck.

 _Puck? You have_ got _to be shitting me._

Quinn had gone on for months about how the jocks were a bunch of mindless losers that just took up space and how she would never lower her level and consort with such dregs of society.

Santana hit her head against the wall behind her and tried to quell her anger. They threw slushies at her and tossed her in the dumpsters, but her best friend still thought it was okay to talk to them and apparently sing with them too.

She pulled her phone out from her jeans pocket and stuffed the earphones angrily into her ears. Loud music blasted through them, enough for the whole Glee Club to hear. She could feel them looking at her in worry, but wisely, no one ventured near her.

All but one.

* * *

As soon as Miss Sylvester told them to work with their duet partners, Rachel and Brittany huddled together at the far end of the room. Brittany pulled out a nail file and started perfecting her nails.

“You have _got_ to be shitting me,” Brittany whispered in disbelief, suddenly gripping her nail file like a weapon.

Rachel followed her gaze and frowned when she saw Puck sitting with Queen Quinn.

_Seriously?_

She really hadn’t expected that one. Quinn had always seemed too snobbish to resort to hanging with the jocks she badmouthed so much. Rachel wondered what Santana thought of the whole thing and looked up at her, immediately getting an answer. Santana had a storm cloud over her head and her eyes were shooting daggers at her oblivious friend. Rachel saw her pull her phone out of her pocket and put the earphones in. She blinked at the volume of the music that followed shortly thereafter. She could hear it and she was on the other side of the room. She couldn’t imagine how loud it must actually be in Santana’s ears.

Wait, she wasn’t with anyone. That meant she didn’t have a duet partner. _That_ meant…

“B, do you remember last year where you slept at Brody Weston’s house and I covered for you with your mom?” Rachel whispered.

”Yeah,” Brittany replied, furrowing her brow. “Why the fuck are you bringing that up now?”

“Because you said you owed me,” Rachel replied, standing up and smoothing her skirt, “and I’m collecting.”

”Rach, what are you…? No, fuck it, Berry, you can _not_ abandon me,” Brittany hissed, grabbing Rachel’s wrist and tugging her back into her chair.

“Deal with it,” Rachel whispered fiercely, yanking her arm out of Brittany’s grip. “I do shit for you every single day and never complain. We’re supposed to be friends, so you _will_ do this for me.”

Brittany blinked in surprise. Few people ever dared to speak to her like that, and Rachel hadn’t stood up to her like that since before high school. Sure, they insulted each other about fifty times a day, but this was actual backbone kinda stuff. Rachel stood up and strode over to where Santana was focusing on her Nintendo Switch.

Rachel stood in front of Santana and waited patiently, her hands folded in front of her in the standard Cheerios pose. A full four minutes passed before Santana’s dark eyes glanced up and at her and then immediately down again. Rachel took that as an invitation so she sat in the chair next to Santana and tapped her foot along to the song that she could hear more clearly through the earphones.

“What do you want this time?” Santana muttered softly enough for Rachel to hear.

Rachel looked at her in surprise. Santana’s music was still blaring and she was still playing her game, but she spoke at a volume that no one else but she could hear. Most people would speak too loudly with music playing at that volume in their ears. But, as Rachel was rapidly discovering, Santana Lopez was not most people.

She turned in her chair so that she was facing Santana and reached up to pull one of the earphones out. Santana looked at her sharply and abruptly locked her Switch, pulling her other earphone out at the same time.

“Fine,” she sighed. “You have my undivided attention. What could the bourgeoisie possibly want with the peasant?”

Rachel furrowed her brow and Santana rolled her eyes.

“Forget it,” Santana muttered, running a hand through her hair. Rachel noticed that it had kind of puffed up. She really had tried to help earlier with her hair products. She had an amazing mousse that-

“Berry!”

”What?”

“Seriously?” Santana asked incredulously. “You come here, interrupt my time of reflection and then you space out? What are you on?”

“Sorry,” Rachel apologised. “I, uh, don’t normally do this.”

“I believe I have established that,” Santana said dryly, resting her face on her arm, looking bored.

“What?” Rachel asked again. Santana was really confusing.

“You don’t normally talk to me – the underclassmen, or whatever,” Santana explained in irritation. “God, I heard you were actually one of the clever ones.”

“Hey, I am clever!” Rachel snapped. “I maintain a 3.6 GPA, thank you very much.”

“Whoop dee fucking doo,” Santana trilled. “Have you decided to tell me why you’re wasting my time yet?”

“Well, I happened to notice that you don’t have a duet partner and I was going to offer my services.”

“As what, my personal cheerleader? Thanks, but no thanks.” Santana moved to put her earphones back in her ears.

“Why not?” Rachel asked indignantly. “I sing pretty well.”

“Yeah, your voice is surprisingly good,” Santana conceded. “But I don’t generally share my love of music with people who have made their mission to make my life miserable.”

Rachel sat back. Santana had a point. Dammit! No, she needed to make it work.

“Wait,” she said quickly, holding up a hand and licking her lips.

Santana looked at her expectantly.

“Don’t say no until you see what I have to offer,” Rachel suggested.

Santana laughed mirthlessly. “I already have. And sorry, Cherry Berry, but you’re not my type.”

“I meant musically,” Rachel said through gritted teeth. Any attraction she’d had for Santana was fast becoming history.

“You seriously want the two of us to do a duet together?” Santana asked, frowning in disbelief.

Rachel shrugged and nodded. “Look, I can see how you’d be intimidated by me. I’m new, I’m hot, I’ve got a great voice and people don’t know what to expect from me. You’re kinda predictable though.”

Santana’s eyes narrowed. “Seeing as how I’m already pissed off, I’m going to let your _attempt_ at reverse psychology slide.” Rachel swallowed. _Dammit. That normally works_. “I’ll meet you at your house after school tomorrow.” She held out her phone. “Put your number in.”

Okay. Santana was getting _her_ number – not quite what she’d planned, but tomorrow brought a lot more promise. Rachel entered it quickly complete with a gold star and handed the phone back.

“I’m not sleeping with you,” Santana stated, returning to her game.

Rachel’s heart started hammering. Right. She remembered why she couldn’t forget about Santana – she dodged every curve ball Rachel threw at her and it was _addictive_. She was really enjoying their little game.

Outwardly, Rachel was calm. “And what makes you think that I want up on that?” she taunted, gesturing Santana’s big hair and tight shirt and sexy jeans-

_Okay, stop! Jesus, Berry. Get a fucking grip._

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Santana replied with a smirk. “Anyone with decent hearing knows all about your reputation, and I may be half blind, but I’ve seen how you look at me.”

Rachel looked at her coolly, although inside she was feeling…nervous? Was that it? Rachel had always been confident; she didn’t know what being nervous felt like.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Lopez,” Rachel said snippily. “As you said, I don’t _consort_ with the peasants.”

Santana smiled. It looked like a genuine smile and Rachel couldn’t help but smile back. Santana broke eye contact abruptly and went back to her Switch. Rachel blinked. Was she being _dismissed_? By the weird kid? Did Glee Club have some magical powers that messed with the order of things? She was one of the top Cheerios, for Christ’s sake. She could have any damn girl she wanted. Santana frigging Lopez should be _begging_ to spend time with her.

Before Santana put her earphones in, she spoke up, “Oh, one more thing. Stop staring at me. It’s creepy.”

* * *

Brittany laughed out loud as Rachel relayed what had happened with Santana in Glee Club.

“It’s not funny!” Rachel snapped, folding her arms across her chest stubbornly.

“No, you’re right, it’s not,” Brittany said, gasping for air. “It’s fucking _hilarious_.” She broke off into peals of laughter.

Rachel grabbed one the pillows from Brittany’s bed and threw it at her, hitting her squarely in the face. Brittany’s laughing stopped immediately.

“You are so dead, Berry.”

“Catch me,” Rachel taunted, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Brittany lunged across the bed, but Rachel was incredibly quick on her feet and was out the door before Brittany had even righted herself. She heard the front door slam and saw that Rachel had somehow managed to grab her bag on her way out too. Brittany grabbed her phone from next to her bed and fired off a text.

_You can’t hide forever, Rach. Tomorrow is payback._

Brittany went to take a shower and when she came back, there was a reply waiting for her. A devious smile crossed her face.

 _Anything you can do, I can do better_.

Oh, it was on. Rachel Berry was in desperate need of a reminder just who was on top.

* * *

Dark hair flew everywhere. There were grunts and groans as limbs grabbed, roamed and scratched. Two bodies rolled across the bed, each fighting for control.

“Fuck,” Rachel moaned, arching her back off her bed.

“Shut up,” Santana muttered, kissing her again.

She pinned Rachel against the bed and attacked her neck, sucking the skin and releasing it with a satisfactory pop. Rachel moaned again, clawing at Santana’s bare back. Santana started kissing down Rachel’s chest, licking the tops of her breasts that were still encased in her lacy bra.

“Jesus, if I’d known you were this good, I would’ve done this a lot sooner,” Rachel said breathlessly, tangling her fingers in Santana’s hair.

Santana stopped immediately and pushed herself up. “Excuse me?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“I fucking _knew_ it!” Santana said, mentally slapping herself and climbing off Rachel and off the bed. She grabbed her glasses from the bedside table. “Dammit! I told myself that I wouldn’t do this.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?’ Rachel asked, sitting up on the bed.

Santana had her hands on her hips and ran fingers through her hair. “I actually have no idea how we ended up half naked on your bed, but I’m glad I stopped it now because there is no way in hell I’m about to be another fucking cross on Rachel Berry’s bedpost.”

“Wait, Santana, that’s not-“

“Oh, isn’t it?” Santana cut in hotly, searching amongst the clothes on the floor for her discarded shirt. “Tell me that isn’t why you came up to me yesterday offering to be my duet partner.”

“It isn’t,” Rachel said softly.

Santana stood up and looked at her in disbelief. “You really expect me to believe that?”

“Okay, yes, I _do_ want sleep with you, I mean, look at you,” Rachel mumbled, gesturing to Santana standing next to her bed clad in her jeans and bra. “Who wouldn’t jump you? But that isn’t why I wanted to do a duet with you.”

“Then why?”

Rachel opened her mouth and closed it again, words failing her. Santana rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I’m not that kind of girl, okay? I don’t sleep around. Sex means something to me. I’m not like you. I can’t just go around fucking girls left, right and centre because I can’t control my libido.”

“That’s not-“

“Look,” Santana interrupted again, “I made a mistake coming here, obviously. Rachel, you’re hot. We both don’t deny that. And that,” she gestured to the rumpled sheets, “was also really hot, but I’m _not_ that kind of girl.”

“What if I don’t want to be that girl anymore?” Rachel asked suddenly, sitting up.

Santana tried not to be distracted by Rachel wearing only the incredibly enticing lingerie she’d bought herself. It somehow looked even hotter on Rachel.

_Focus!_

“You can’t _not_ be that girl,” Santana replied, shrugging. “It’s who you are.”

”But what if I just…wanted one girl?” Rachel asked shyly, looking down.

Santana blinked in surprise. She couldn’t have heard that right. Nope, her brain was addled with sex, or non-sex, or whatever.

“Santana, I’m serious.”

Santana took a deep breath. “If you’re serious, then prove it,” she said simply. “Your reputation is legend and I have no doubt that it’s probably ninety-five percent true.”

Rachel’s blush confirmed her statement.

“Telling me that you _suddenly_ don’t wanna be that girl anymore just sounds like empty words,” Santana went on. “Actions speak louder than words to me.”

“We were pretty active two minutes ago,” Rachel said seductively, leaning against her bedpost.

Santana swallowed, running her eyes up and down Rachel’s scantily clad body. She shook her head.

_Dammit. She’s good._

“No,” Santana said, shaking her head, as if the motion would convince her more that she was making the right decision. “A leopard doesn’t change its spots overnight. Prove to me that you can handle me – _only_ me – and then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Rachel said. “Challenge accepted. Prepare to be wooed, Santana Lopez.”

Santana couldn’t hold back the laugh. “You’re cute,” she said. “But I’m stubborn. Don’t think that this is going to be easy.”

Santana finally spotted her shirt hanging off the back of Rachel’s mirror. She grabbed it and pulled it on.

“So, does this mean we’re not doing a duet together?” Rachel asked, looking forlornly at Santana’s fully clothed body.

“Ya think?” Santana smirked. “I’ll just sing something with Mercedes or whatever.”

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?” Rachel asked hopefully, still kneeling on her bed in her underwear.

“I don’t think so,” Santana replied, indicating her attire. “Try and change my mind and you may just get that kiss.”

She winked at Rachel and walked out of her bedroom, practically running down the stairs and out of the house. Once she was safely outside, she leaned against the front door, trying to catch her breath, and not just from the hurried escape. That had been _hot_. She really hadn’t expected anything like that to happen when she’d arrived. Well, sure she’d _thought_ about it, obviously, but she seriously hadn’t expected her thoughts to become reality.

Santana started walking to the front gate, confident that her decision to stop and leave had been the right one.

“Santana Lopez, you’re gonna be mine before you know it!” she heard Rachel yell from somewhere.

She turned and looked up, her mouth falling open. Rachel was leaning out of her bedroom window, still clad in her skimpy lingerie, her bust thrusted forward.

“One day soon, you’re going to be screaming my name,” Rachel sang as Santana quickly walked away, desperately trying to hide the smile on her face.

The rest of the week was going to be interesting, to say the least. And Santana had to admit that she was really looking forward to it.


	3. Chapter 3

Santana walked down the halls and found more people staring at her than normal. She brushed it off and knelt next to her locker, unlocking it and pulling out the books she’d need for her morning classes. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulled it out. A message from Rachel was waiting for her. She frowned and opened it.

_So…there may or may not be a rumour flying around that you and I made mad, passionate love all night long. Just a heads up._

Santana gritted her teeth and quickly typed out a reply.

_Yet another example of why I made the RIGHT decision in leaving last night. Thanks so much. As if I don’t have enough shit to deal with._

She’d actually woken up in a pretty good mood that morning, but it had all just gone to shit because of Rachel fucking Berry’s big trap. Santana wanted to physically slap herself for almost falling for such an obvious game. Her phone was buzzing, but she ignored it, grabbing her books and stalking off to homeroom, not caring that she was fifteen minutes early.

Santana flopped down at the back of the classroom and slunk down in her chair, just wanting to disappear. She’d dealt with rumours and means things being said about her behind her back – that was cake for her. She just hated that she was now considered one of Rachel Berry’s conquests.

“Santana.”

She groaned and dropped her head on her desk. “Take a hint, Berry! Do you really think that I want to talk to you now?”

“I didn’t say anything!” Rachel protested, sitting next to Santana. “Seriously, I was serious yesterday. I do want you and I will prove to you that I’m worthy.” She stood up with a smile. “For starters, I’m going to find out where the hell this rumour came from. As much as I’d love it to be true, I’d prefer it if the whole school didn’t know what happened between us.”

Santana scoffed. Rachel wasn’t exactly racking up the brownie points.

“No, shit, that’s not what I meant,” Rachel replied quickly, realising how she’d sounded. “I meant that it’s between us. It shouldn’t be something that the whole school’s talking about.”

Rachel looked like she was going to lean in and kiss her, then thought better of it, turned on her heel and walked quickly out of the classroom, leaving Santana quite baffled.

_What the fuck just happened?_

* * *

“B, swear to me you don’t know anything,” Rachel pleaded, grabbing her books from her locker. “I know we pull shit on each other all the time, but promise me you had nothing to do with this?”

Brittany just stared at her.

“First, who are you and where’s the real Rachel? Second, _what_ are you talking about?”

“I’m serious, Britt. Someone must’ve seen Santana leaving my house last night and started spinning the vicious rumour mill. Oh…” Her eyes went wide and she shut her locker loudly.

“What?” Brittany asked.

“Uh, if my theory is correct, then this someone may have heard some…interesting things that I may have shouted to Santana from my window while wearing lingerie.”

Brittany closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I swear to God, Rachel. You only think with your vajayjay sometimes.” Her eyes went to a slightly visibly mark mostly hidden by her Cheerios top. “What the hell is that?” She moved to pull the top aside, but Rachel ducked out of her grasp and started walking down the hall.

“It’s nothing! I…pulled a muscle and it’s just bruising.”

“Oh, it’s a bruise all right,” Brittany said knowingly, catching up to her. “But wait, I thought you said that you and Santana _didn’t_ -“

“We didn’t,” Rachel interrupted, “but…there may have been some foreplay.”

“So the rumours aren’t completely untrue.”

“Yes, they are! Britt, I need this. Please?”

Brittany looked at her friend carefully. She’d never seen Rachel so panicked. She was totally freaking out. She’d never seen Rachel freak out. Ever.

“Oh my God!” Brittany said loudly, causing a few people to look over at them, and then look quickly away.

“What?” Rachel asked in alarm. “Did I miss one?” She started to frantically feel around her neck.

“Jesus, how many did she give you?” Brittany asked, arching her eyebrows.

“Just the one,” Rachel mumbled, “I think.”

Brittany chuckled, pretty sure that she wasn’t supposed to have heard that last part.

“What were you OMGing about?”

Brittany stopped Rachel before they went into English together. “You like Santana. You _actually_ like her. That’s why you want to find out who started the rumour. She probably thinks you did and you need something to win her over.”

Rachel blinked. “You sure you didn’t start the rumour? Cos that sounds freakishly like what Santana said to me last night.”

They walked in and took their seats at the back and continued their conversation in hushed tones.

“Not that I care about who you get into your bed, but how did you and Santana end up…you know?” Brittany asked curiously. “I thought she’d sent you a big NO vibe.”

“She did,” Rachel replied quietly, shrugging. “She came over after school yesterday and we got started looking through some music for our duet. I was sitting on my bed and she was sitting at my desk. Oh, then my neck went into spasm because I’m pretty sure you gave me whiplash at yesterday morning’s practice.”

Brittany grinned. “Told you I’d get you back.”

“Oh, yeah, physically injuring the top of the pyramid sounds like a fan-fucking-tastic plan, Britt,” Rachel snapped, her hand automatically going to her neck where Brittany assumed the spasm had taken place. “Anyway, I got up to get some ice and Santana told me that putting ice on it was the worst that I could do.”

“She’s right,” Brittany interjected.

Rachel glared at her and the blonde simply smiled. “Anyway, so Santana said she’d massage it.”

Brittany rolled her eyes and Rachel hit her lightly on the arm. “She told me to sit on the bed, but my Cheerios top was in the way-“

“Oh my God.” Brittany started giggling. “This is like something out of a bad porno.”

“Which you’ve probably seen because the only action _you’re_ getting is from your hand!” Rachel hissed angrily.

“Whoa, chill out, Rach, Jesus, I was kidding.”

“Whatever,” Rachel snapped, a scowl fixed on her face as she faced the front of the class and started taking notes.

“Do I get to hear the end of the story?” Brittany asked hopefully.

Rachel shot her a look.

“Okee, maybe later,” Brittany said, rolling her eyes.

It wasn’t that she wanted details of Rachel and Santana doing the nasty – ew, really, no – but the whole situation felt like a script of a cheesy soap opera or something. And hey, it was good gossip. Brittany definitely _hadn’t_ started the rumours – they would’ve been a _lot_ more juicy if she had. She glanced sidelong at Rachel, scowl still in place. It was kind of cute that Rachel had a crush on Santana. Like an actual, genuine crush. Brittany definitely hadn’t ever experienced Rachel crushing on anyone else before. So, because she was actually a good friend, she whipped out her phone and sent a group text to the Cheerios.

_Mission: Find out who started the Rachel/Santana rumour and bring them to me. End of day latest._

She unchecked Rachel’s name so that she wouldn’t know the extent of her involvement until the end. Hey, if Santana was making her work for it, then Rachel needed to show that she was.

Brittany daydreamed for the rest of the class, yawning as the bell rang. Rachel stood up and brushed past Brittany without so much as a word. Brittany rolled her eyes and went after her.

“Rachel,” Brittany said, catching her elbow. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I think it’s cute that you wanna make lady babies with Santana. I’m not used to seeing you like this so I don’t know if you’re being serious or not.”

“Well, I am serious,” Rachel said, her scowl softening. “I don’t know what it is about her. She’s completely invaded my senses and I can’t get her out.”

“Cute,” Brittany said with a smile. She released Rachel’s elbow and they walked towards their next class. “So, what happened next?”

Rachel looked at her blankly.

“Last night?” Brittany prompted.

“Oh, yeah, so she told me to take my Cheerios top off and I told her that if this was her way of _not_ sleeping with me, then she was doing a great job. She just laughed and said that she had no intention of sleeping with me.”

”God, I love this,” Brittany grinned. “It’s like our own episode of the L Word or something.”

Rachel frowned. “I’ll…try not to take offence to that. Anyway, so she’s rubbing out the spasm and I feel the muscle relax so I tell her thank you and she stops and pulls out her iPod, playing me some song ideas. And I’m still sitting there in my bra and skirt.”

They arrived at their next class and went to their standard back row seats. Brittany leaned forward eagerly. She ignored a little voice in the back of her head calling her a creep at how into the whole story she was getting.

“So we find this one song, I don’t even remember which one, and we start singing it, but apparently I was singing it wrong and Santana tells me that I have to breathe properly. She puts a hand on my diaphragm and the other on my back and shows me how she wants me to breathe. I’m still like okay, fine, this is still relatively platonic, even though I’m still sitting here in my bra.

“Sooo, I decide to stand up cos of course my breathing’s all wrong when she’s got her hands all over me. I told her that I could breathe easier. _Then_ she decides to show me-“

“ _No_ ,” Brittany breathed. “Sorry,” she apologised quickly.

“She decides to show me how my breathing should look. She doesn’t take her shirt off, just lifts it up and, _oh my God_ , she is so sexy, B. Like, seriously. I don’t know how she got tone like that, but she can rival even you.”

Brittany raised an eyebrow. Her dancing kept her more toned than the other Cheerios. She couldn’t help wondering exactly how toned Santana actually was.

“You can imagine I’m like freaking out because this girl’s flashing her hot body and I can’t _do_ anything about it, so I just turned around and sat at my desk, right, and I keep looking for songs. We find another one and it’s actually really good. We get an idea of how we want our voices to sound, and B, we actually sound _really_ good together.”

“Hmmm,” Brittany mumbled, losing interest in the story.

“Then Santana says that we should come up with a little choreography. She’s a really good dancer, too. Maybe we should try and get her to join the Cheerios.”

Brittany sat up straight. “Hell no, Rachel. That girl is beyond weird. Having her on the squad, assuming she’d even get _on_ , would bring down the rep of every single girl. You want that on your conscience?”

Rachel looked alarmed. “Uh…no, I don’t suppose…Um. Dancing, right. So, we were doing some choreography and we looked up, eyes locked and it just… _happened._ ”

“What?”

“We kissed.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, the other stuff happened, too, but…”

Brittany folded her arms and smirked at the short brunette. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Rachel just nodded.

“Are you going to ask her out?”

“She says that I have to prove that I can be true to her before she’d be willing to do _anything_ with me.”

“Okay, then what are you going to do?” Brittany asked.

“Well, for starters, I’m gonna find the asshole who started that rumour and kick his ass and then…I have no idea.”

“Well, she’s in Glee Club,” Brittany suggested.

“And?” Rachel asked in expectation.

“Well, they like songs being sung to them. So, sing her a song.”

“Sing a song _to_ her. Like serenade her or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Brittany said with a smile. Damn, she was on a role with the best friend thing.

“That might work,” Rachel said thoughtfully. “I wanna ask her to Artie’s party on Friday and today’s Wednesday, so I have to do the performance tomorrow.”

“Artie’s party?” Brittany asked uncertainly. “You sure that’s a good idea? Those guys have spent the last few months making her life hell.”

“On _your_ orders,” Rachel reminded her.

Brittany shrugged. She’d washed her hands of that responsibility last year already. It wasn’t her fault that the jocks _still_ did it. Brittany felt her phone buzz and checked it, even though they were in class. It was from Sandy, one of the juniors on the squad.

_Culprit identified. Sorry to admit that I’m related to him. Locker room? Lunch?_

Brittany just replied an affirmative and pulled out a nail file. She looked around. What class was she in, anyway?

* * *

Santana was sitting in AP Spanish when a flash of red entered the classroom and knelt down next to her desk.

“What are you doing here?” Santana hissed. “I’m writing a test!”

“Miss Berry, I’m afraid-“

“I’m on official business for Coach Pillsbury,” Rachel said in a very firm voice.

The teacher looked like she wanted to argue, but decided against it, simply giving Rachel a glare.

“I found the guy who started the rumour,” Rachel whispered. “He’s being dealt with.”

“Oh, well, okay. Thank you, but couldn’t you have waited until Glee to tell me that?” Santana asked.

“Well…I just wanted to tell you,” Rachel stammered, looking crestfallen.

Santana actually felt quite bad at how disappointed Rachel was. “Look, don’t stress. It’s cool. I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Rachel smiled. “I’ll see you in Glee?”

Santana nodded and watched her walk out of the classroom. And maybe, just _maybe_ her gaze lingered on the flaps of those incredibly short skirts for a bit longer than it should have.

* * *

Glee was uneventful other than Santana getting Mercedes to drop Tina and join forces with her to do a duet. Within ten minutes they knew what they were doing and were running through some simple choreography.

“Yo, what’s the deal with you and Cherry Berry?” Mercedes asked.

“Nothing,” Santana replied. “Just a stupid rumour.”

“That’s not what the word is in Lima Heights,” Mercedes replied, examining her nails.

“And what makes you think I care what the people in that shithole say?” Santana said, her eyes narrowing. She didn’t care that the rest of the school whispered behind her back, but it was a very different thing when her Glee friends did it. Especially considering she took the abuse for all of them.

“Watch your mouth, Lopez. Don’t forget that we saved your ass on many occasions.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “It’s cute that you think you’re all gangsta badass when we all know that you’re really just a big squishy teddy bear.” She smiled sweetly.

“I will cut you, Lopez. Don’t push me.”

Santana chuckled. “I have missed our chats, Mercedes.”

Mercedes grinned and fist bumped Santana, who thereafter attempted to show her the greeting from Star Trek and failed miserably.

* * *

Santana wondered briefly as Thursday drew to a close whether the rumour about her and Rachel had afforded her a small reprieve from her slushie attacks.

That idea was short lived as she walked out of her last class and was met with blue ice flying towards her face. Due to the surprise attack, Santana didn’t have a chance to close her eyes and they immediately started to burn as the syrup made her vision swim.

Santana screamed in frustration and stalked off to the locker room. Normally she didn’t let it affect her, but when was the world going to wake up and realise that she wasn’t a machine, that she had feelings? She couldn’t keep her calm, nonchalant exterior forever. What the hell made Rachel so special that she didn’t get the same of treatment? Was it simply because everyone was terrified or Coach Pillsbury?

Santana couldn’t be that person – she couldn’t walk down the halls of McKinley glaring at everyone who dared look at her. It just wasn’t in her nature.

Crap. She didn’t have another shirt with her. She pulled her phone from her back pocket and wiped her burning eyes in frustration. She told herself that it was from the syrup and not because of the tightness in her chest.

You. Will. Not. Cry.

Santana stared at her phone for almost five minutes, fighting with herself. Eventually, self-preservation overruled and she typed out a quick message, sending it before she could change her mind.

_Locker room? I need you. Do you have an extra shirt?_

* * *

She ran into the locker room and looked around frantically for Santana. She heard the shower going, but there was no one there. That was until she heard a very soft sob. Her heart broke. She didn’t care that her own clothes could get wet and headed into the steamy area.

Santana was sitting naked on the floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest, her face hidden by her long dark hair hanging down in wet strands. She knelt down and gently touched the Latina’s arm, causing Santana to look up. Her heart hurt at the unfamiliar sight of tears running down Santana’s cheeks.

“You came,” she whispered, her voice choking on a sob.

“Of course,” she replied softly.

Santana allowed Quinn to pull her out of the shower and into a tight hug as the tears rolled from her eyes uncontrollably.

* * *

Rachel was wringing her hands nervously. This whole butterfly-in-the-stomach thing was messing with her. She’d never experienced it before Santana and now she couldn’t seem to get rid of it.

“Will you relax?” Brittany hissed from her seat next to her.

They were sitting in the back row of Glee, waiting for Santana and Quinn to arrive. Both were supposed to do their duets that day so Rachel was pretty sure they’d show up, but they were already fifteen minutes late and the cheerleader was starting to wonder if they were going to show.

“She’ll be here,” Brittany said softly.

“What if she doesn’t?” Rachel whispered.

At that moment, Santana and Quinn walked in and Rachel’s eyes went wide. Santana’s hair was freshly wet and her eyes were slightly red. She wouldn’t have noticed normally, but over the last two weeks, she’d started to pick up on Santana’s little tells. Not that she’d ever seen the her, but it sure as hell looked like Santana had been crying.

“Sorry we’re late, Miss Sylvester,” Quinn apologised. “I helped Santana get cleaned up.”

Miss Sylvester nodded and looked like she wanted to say something, but Santana cut her off.

“Please, Miss S. I really am not in the mood for another lecture. You guys can thank me, but it’s unnecessary. I’m just so tired of people’s narrow-mindedness.”

“It’s getting to you,” Tina said softly. “Normally you let it roll of your back, but we can all see that the bullying is getting to you.”

Santana shrugged and walked to her seat. “What difference does it make? I’d still do it if it meant they’d leave you guys alone.”

“We should go to Principal Schuester,” Puck piped up.

“Listen, jock strap, you haven’t been here long enough so let us give you the low down on how things work around here. Principal Schue doesn’t care about us. As long as the precious Cheerios are given the key to the school, the rest of us don’t matter.”

Everyone blinked at Mercedes, who sat back and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at the whiteboard.

“Uh,” Puck stammered in embarrassment.

“Santana, I will make him deal with this. He can’t allow this kind of bullying to go on unpunished.”

“Miss S, I appreciate the gesture, really I do,” Santana said in resignation. “But the reality of our situation is that it’s not Principal Schue that’s to blame. They’re sitting right over there.”

All eyes zeroed in on Brittany and Rachel. The latter immediately felt uncomfortable, but Brittany looked unfazed. Rachel met Santana’s eyes and her stomach dropped at the look of disappointment.

Crap! I feel like I’ve just been thrown five feet backwards in proving to her that I want this with her.

“Quinn and Puck? Are you guys ready to do your duet?”

The two stood up and took the floor. Rachel barely heard their song as she stared at Santana, desperately trying to make the Latina look at her, but she remained stoically focused on the performance in front her. It was some sickeningly sweet cotton candy melt in your mouth kind of song and Rachel really couldn’t give a shit.

The song ended and Santana applauded, giving Quinn a smile. Rachel sat back in her chair in frustration.

“This is all your fault,” she hissed, crossing her arms.

“Mine?” Brittany asked in amusement. “How on earth do you figure that one?”

“You started this whole attack against Santana. Just tell the boys to stop slushing her.”

“First off, she came to us and demanded that we pick on her. Second, are you going to take Santana’s place? Because someone will have to.”

Rachel frowned, but then her face lightened up.

That’s it! That’s the perfect thing to get Santana to realise that I’m serious about us.

Santana and Mercedes took the floor and did an amazing rendition of River Deep, Mountain High. Rachel had no to really focus to keep her jaw from dropping on the floor when Santana started shaking her ass. All sorts of really naughty thoughts popped into Rachel’s head and she had to physically shake it to get them to settle.

The class was wrapping up and Santana seemed in happier spirits, so Rachel decided to swallow her nerves that had sprung up out of nowhere.

“Um, Miss Sylvester, I was wondering if I might have the floor to sing a song? It’s not part of our duets assignment, but I have something I’d like to say. Well, sing.”

Miss Sylvester raised her eyebrows but indicated that the floor was hers. Rachel took the floor and nodded at the band. They’d rehearsed the previous day after Glee so Rachel was confident that they wouldn’t mess up. Herself, on the other hand, she wasn’t so sure about.

She squeezed her eyes, took a deep breath and raised her eyes to meet Santana’s curious ones. The music started and Santana’s eyes widened in recognition.

Rachel took a breath and began to sing, “If you change your mind, I’m the first in line. Honey, I’m still free. Take a chance on me.” She didn’t move from her spot for the duration of the song, keeping her focus on Santana, pouring as much emphasis and emotion into each lyric. She needed Santana to take a chance on her, on them. Rachel really thought that they could be something special.

She ended the song on a question and saw something change in Santana’s gaze, which skyrocketed her hopes. The Glee Club clapped politely, but it wasn’t deafening like the applause that the previous two performances had received. They probably weren’t sure of how to deal with Rachel’s very open declaration of affection for Santana. Hell, she was pretty sure that Santana didn’t quite know how to deal with it.

Regardless, Rachel was glad that she’d sung the song. And phase two began the next day. She smiled at Santana and turned around, walking out of Glee Club.

* * *

Santana was walking to her class after lunch the next day, her mind whirling with conflicting thoughts, as they had been since the previous day’s Glee Club.

Rachel Berry had sung to her. Actually sung a song to her face, never looking away. She’d asked her to take a chance. She’d put herself out there, and now it was up to Santana whether she actually wanted to risk it. Did she? Was it enough?

Santana sat down in her next class and tried to concentrate on what the teacher was saying. It worked sporadically, her mind always returning to Rachel Berry.

Santana Lopez and Rachel Berry. In what universe would she have ever predicted that to happen?

The bell rang and Santana took her time gathering her things before walking to Spanish.

“Hey, Lopez!” a familiar voice called behind her.

Santana stopped, but didn’t turn around. She knew what was coming.

“I’ve got something for you,” Artie taunted.

“Not in the mood for gifts today,” Santana replied.

“Did you hear that, boys? Lupus doesn’t want our gift,” Artie snorted. “Now that’s just rude.”

“Actually, what’s rude is that you’re allowed out of the house looking like that,” Santana snapped, spinning around.

May as well just get it over with.

“You should really think before you speak, Lupus,” Artie smirked, a jumbo cherry slushie in his hand.

Santana sighed. “It’s not my fault that your brain can’t function as quickly as mine. And I really can’t be bothered to speak slowly just so that you can understand me properly.”

Artie scowled and thrust his arm forward. At the same time, Santana felt two arms push her out of the way. She crashed into the lockers and looked up in alarm. Her mouth dropped open when she saw Rachel Berry dripping in cherry slushie.

“Oh, shit, dude,” Artie’s friends said in worry. “You fucking slushied a Cheerio. You’re a dead man.”

Artie actually looked quite worried. “S-Sorry, Rachel,” he stammered, before dropping the cup and jogging down the hall.

Santana stood up straight and shook her head at the rapidly disappearing. She took Rachel’s hand and led her silently to the locker room. She ignored the horrified looks that they got en route and locked the door behind them once they were inside.

Santana had never been inside the Cheerios locker room, but she was pretty impressed with its spaciousness and modern look. Each shower had its own cubicle with curtain. Santana wished that the standard showers had curtains. She knew that the girls all felt weird showering with her because they were convinced that she was checking them out. Which she totally wasn’t. The girls at McKinley were okay to look at, but Santana was very specific, and the high school girls just weren’t interesting enough.

Well…maybe there was one.

Santana put her bag down on the floor and turned around, facing Rachel for the first time. Her eyes were squeezed closed and Santana thought for a second that she was crying, but there were no tear tracks in among the slushie syrup.

“Rachel?” Santana asked tentatively, letting her fingers run over the hand she was holding. “Could you open your eyes, please?”

Rachel just shook her head quickly, keeping her eyes closed. Santana dropped the hand she was holding and started using her fingers to clean the excess slushie off Rachel’s face. Rachel’s jaw was clenched tightly and Santana softly trailed her forefinger across it, trying the relax it, but to no avail. After a minute, most of the red crap was off Rachel’s face, but the rest of her was still pretty covered in it.

“Open your eyes,” Santana said.

Rachel shook her head again. Santana rolled her eyes and pressed her lips against Rachel’s. As Santana expected, her eyes flew open, only to immediately squeeze closed again as her face scrunched up in discomfort.

“Did you get some syrup in your eyes?” Santana asked gently, pulling away.

Rachel nodded, squeezing them tighter as if it would get the syrup out.

“Come on,” Santana said, taking Rachel’s hand and leading her to the sinks. “Bend over.”

“I have to admit that I envisioned you saying those words to me under different circumstances,” Rachel mumbled as Santana turned on the tap.

Santana smiled. “Well, continue playing your cards right and you may just hear me say them in those exact circumstances.”

Rachel let her face run under the water and she blinked a few times before looking sideways at Santana.

“Really?”

Santana nodded. “You took a slushie for me. That’s big in my books. No one’s ever even tried to.”

Rachel sighed. “I heard what you said yesterday.” She stood up from the sink and grabbed one of the face towels.

Santana leaned against the sink, waiting for Rachel to continue.

“Just because I’m a Cheerio doesn’t mean that you should take everything those morons throw at you. We’re both gay and both in Glee. If the high school hierarchy wasn’t so fucked up, we’d both be getting slushie facials daily.”

“I may be missing your point,” Santana said, crossing her arms and frowning.

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair to the other Glee members feeling guilty because you’re the only one with the balls to stand up to the idiots that runs this school-“

“Uh, you happen to be one of those idiots,” Santana pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, which is also why I pushed you out the way. Other than not wanting you to get slushied, I mean.”

“Do elaborate.”

“Coach Em is gonna go apeshit on those football guys for slushing a cheerleader, and not just any cheerleader. The top of her pyramid. She’s going to talk to Schue, or yell at him, and get them suspended or something and she’ll probably make them wash this week’s uniforms by hand.”

“Are you seriously telling me that all it took for them to stop harassing me was for them to mistakenly do it to you?” Santana asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rachel stopped dabbing her face dry and looked at Santana carefully. “I didn’t do this for that reason. We live in a fucked up society. I pushed you out the way because I wanted to show you that I can deal with what you deal with. If it means that I have to take all your slushies, then I will. I-“

Rachel was cut off by Santana grabbing the top of her skirt and pulling her towards her. Santana cupped Rachel’s cheek and leaned down, capturing her lips. Rachel responded immediately and softly kissed her back. The exchanged gentle kisses until Rachel pulled away.

“As much as I enjoyed that, I’d really like to take a shower now. I can feel cherry slushie creeping down my front bum.”

“Your front bum?” Santana chuckled.

Rachel smirked and stepped away from Santana. “I would offer you to help me, but I wouldn’t want to be another notch on Santana’s Lopez’s bedpost.”

Santana smiled and shook her head as Rachel disappeared towards the showers. She laughed out loud when she saw a Cheerios skirt flying out from behind the shower, followed shortly by a top and the rest of the uniform.

“So I have a question for you,” Rachel called out over the noise of the shower.

“I’m listening,” Santana called back.

“Am I allowed to ask you out now?”

“You never know till you try.”

Rachel’s head poked out from behind the shower curtain and she grinned. “Would you accompany me to a party tonight?”

Santana’s smile faltered. “A jock party?”

“Well, yeah, but you’d be there with me.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Santana said carefully, looking down at her hands.

“Santana, I’m not ashamed to be seen with you,” Rachel said deliberately.

“Oh, I know that, don’t worry. Who wouldn’t, right?” she smirked.

Rachel returned her smirk and disappeared behind the curtain again. A small smile crossed Santana’s face as she heard the familiar lyrics of Take A Chance On Me echo off the tiles.

Santana sighed. Did she dare? She’d be stepping so far out of her comfort zone that she’d probably have to change area codes.

“If you change your mind, I'm the first in line. Honey I'm still free. Take a chance on me.”

Santana glanced at the shower curtain. Guess there was only way to find out, wasn’t there?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

Santana was laying on her bed, reading a book and tapping her foot softly to the music playing in her room when there was a knock on her door.

“ _Entrar_ ,” Santana called, her eyes glued the words on the page in front of her.

“ _Mija, tiene un visitante_ ,” Carmen said, opening the door.

Santana glanced over the edge of her book. She never got visitors. Her mouth opened slightly when Rachel Berry stepped into her bedroom, looking around with interest.

“ _Gracias, mami_ ,” Santana said quickly, giving her mother a look that told her to vamoose.

Carmen obliged and Santana sat up. “What are you doing here?”

Rachel was wearing black skinny jeans, a loose white top and a leather jacket. Four-inch heels completed the look.

Rachel looked at her in confusion. “Party tonight? I’m taking you?”

Santana looked at her watch. “It’s ten pm. I thought you weren’t going.”

Rachel laughed. “Oh, no. I don’t show up until at least ten-thirty. That way I skip all the lightweights who think it’s okay to feel up a cheerleader.”

Santana frowned. “Is this how you pick someone up for a date? No message to say you’re going to be there late? No heads up at all?”

Rachel’s smile fell and Santana felt a little better. She’d thought that when she’d agreed to a date with Rachel that she’d be seeing some improvement, but it just proved that Rachel had _no_ idea how to date someone.

“Have you actually ever dated someone?” Santana asked.

“Uh, like going to dinner and movies?” Rachel asked, looking nervous.

“That’s _one_ date,” Santana replied. “What I’m referring to is going out with one person several times. Without sex,” she added, seeing the look of triumph on Rachel’s face.

It fell as soon as Santana added on the condition.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Santana muttered. “Rachel, you can’t just show up whenever if you make plans with someone. What if I don’t want to go anymore? You told me that you’d get here around seven. That was _three_ _hours ago_. I don’t know how you normally operate, but I don’t take kindly to being treated like someone who doesn’t matter enough.”

“What?” Rachel asked in alarm, her eyes meeting Santana’s. “No, no, but you do matter! I’m sorry, Santana. I know I’m messing this up and it hasn’t even started.”

She actually looked so forlorn that Santana decided to go easy on her.

“Fine, but this is your one get-out-of-jail-free card, Berry,” Santana said, standing up and grabbing her jacket from the back of her desk chair. “I told you, I’m not that easy to crack. You’ve got some hard work ahead of you.”

Rachel smiled. “And as I told _you_ , Santana, challenge accepted.”

Santana felt Rachel’s eyes run over her body as she pulled her jacket on and she raised an eyebrow. “I’m not getting all dolled up like you, so don’t even think about trying to convince me.”

Rachel shook her head and smiled. “I like how you dress. It’s all Santana. And I like Santana, so I like what you’re wearing.”

Santana furrowed her brow. “That made no sense whatsoever.”

Rachel impulsively grabbed Santana’s hand. “It means that I like who the way that you are, Santana. I don’t want you to change.”

Santana couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. “Who knew that Cherry Berry could be such a smooth talker?” she teased, linking their fingers.

“Cherry Berry?” Rachel asked in amusement.

“Yeah, cos you like cherries,” Santana explained with a wink as she opened her door.

“Mama, I’m going out. I’ll be back later,” Santana called, descending the steps with Rachel in tow.

Carmen looked up from the sink and raised an eyebrow at the linked fingers.

“ _Mija, es educado para introducir empresa_ ,” she said, giving her daughter a disapproving look.

Santana sighed. “Forgive me forgetting because I have guests _so_ often,” she said dryly. “Carmen Lopez, meet Rachel Berry. Rachel, Mom. Mom, Rachel. Cheerleader, parent. All bases covered? We good?”

Rachel giggled and Carmen just smirked. “That tongue of yours, _mija_.”

“I like it,” Rachel said quietly, only enough for Santana to hear, though.

Santana turned and grinned at Rachel.

“You have your keys, Santana?”

“ _Si, mami. Tener una buena noche_.”

“You too. _Te amo_.”

“ _Te amo._ Bye!” Santana called, pulling Rachel out the front door.

“You have a very dramatic relationship with your mother,” the cheerleader commented as they walked to her car.

Santana shrugged. “My whole family’s like that. We’re just very comfortable around each other. I can totally be myself and they don’t get irritated or anything.”

Rachel clicked the alarm off on her car and Santana’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit, is this your car?”

“Sweet sixteen presents from my dads,” Rachel replied proudly.

Santana tried to act relatively normal, but Rachel Berry was driving her dream car – a Ford Thunderbird convertible. Not in her favourite colour, but who the hell cared.

“You like it?” Rachel asked, getting in the driver’s side.

“This is only the coolest car _ever_ ,” Santana gushed. “Is it the 1959 convertible?”

“Uh…”

“Shit, Rachel! Do you have any idea how classic this car is?”

“Jesus, it’s just a car!” Rachel chuckled, started the engine.

Santana shook her head and got in, closing her eyes to fully appreciate the rumble of the engine. She felt Rachel pull out of her driveway and begin their journey.

“I asked for this model as opposed to the first-generation Thunderbird,” Rachel commented suddenly.

Santana’s eyes flew open and she looked at Rachel in surprise.

“What?” she asked with a grin, keeping one hand on the wheel and running the other through her hair. “Just because I’m a cheerleader, I don’t know about vintage cars?”

“You are _definitely_ full of surprises,” Santana said with a smile. “So why did you forego the inaugural sports model?”

Rachel stopped at a red light and held Santana’s gaze with a smirk. “This model has a back seat.”

* * *

They arrived at Artie’s house around ten-thirty. They exited the car and Rachel reached out for Santana’s hand, her eyebrows raised in expectation. Santana closed the distance and linked their fingers with a small smile.

“I know that you generally don’t give a shit what people think about you, and I actually admire that, but just remember that most of these guys are drunk and don’t have a clue what they’re saying.”

“Are you telling me to be on my best behaviour, Berry?” Santana asked, humour in her tone.

Rachel stopped walking and turned to face Santana. She sighed. “I just don’t want you to become uncomfortable or pissed off. I know that these guys haven’t exactly made your life easy and I’m pretty sure that you could beat their asses in the blink of an eye, yet you haven’t. So I’m asking you to exhibit that strength tonight because I’m telling you that you’re gonna need it.”

Rachel could see Santana struggling with the idea. She’d been looking forward to Artie’s party all week, but if Santana was going to be uncomfortable, was it worth it?

Rachel took a breath, The whole thinking-about-someone-else-before-herself was a really novice idea and it was taking some getting used to. As Santana had mercilessly pointed out earlier, Rachel was hopelessly inexperienced when it came to actually dating a girl. Even though she was fairly certain that she and Santana would eventually sleep together, she had a feeling that she was going to be made to work for it. And strangely enough, she found she didn’t mind the idea. Rachel just _knew_ that when they finally did have sex, it was going to be amazing.

“Okay,” Santana said finally, bringing Rachel out of her head.

“You sure?”

Santana nodded. “I’ll just make sure that I stay well away from the cavemen.” She huffed. “I’m not even going to know anyone there, Rachel.”

“You’ll have me,” Rachel replied, squeezing the hand she still held. “And Brittany will be there.”

Santana scoffed again and followed Rachel. “No offence, but I doubt that I’ll find very much in common with Wonder Barbie.”

Rachel smiled. “That’s pretty clever,” she chuckled. “Wonder Barbie.”

“You guys have a very interesting friendship, don’t you?” Santana asked as the ascended the steps to the front door.

Rachel laughed. “That’s definitely one way of putting it.”

She opened the door and immediately pushed Santana out of the way of two guys on a skateboard.

“You could always just ask to push me up against a wall, you know?” Santana teased, her breath brushing Rachel’s cheek. “You didn’t have to organise two drunk guys on a skateboard.”

Rachel raised her eyes and met Santana’s playful ones. “Well, I thought you liked the whole knight in shining armour shit.” She shrugged nonchalantly and smiled. “Guess now I know for next time.”

She leaned in for a kiss, but pulled away at the last second, sending Santana a mischievous smirk.

“We can play dirty, Berry,” Santana said, walking very close behind her and husking in her ear. It sent shivers down Rachel’s spine.

Rachel and Santana walked into the kitchen and the cheerleader ignored all the looks of confusion at her company.

“What do you want to drink?” she asked, looking at the array of alcohol on the counter.

“Whatever,” Santana shrugged. “Vodka?”

Rachel grabbed the vodka, a bottle of lemonade and two cups before inclining her head towards the living room. She’d been to Artie’s house enough times to know where her friends would be hanging out. Sure enough, the Cheerios were all lounging on the chairs, chatting amongst themselves over the thud of Artie’s brother’s band.

“Rach! ‘Bout fuckin’ time!”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Britt, your shirt is open again,” she sighed. “God, whenever you get drunk you turn into a stripper. It’s messed up.”

“Hahaha, but you secretly like it,” Brittany slurred, trying to do her buttons up but hopelessly confusing herself.

“Santana, could you hold this for me?” Rachel asked, handing her the alcohol and cups.

She deftly did Brittany’s shirt up and led her to the couch that she’d vacated. With a flick of her wrist, the other two Cheerios stood up, making space for Rachel and Santana.

Rachel quickly poured a drink for herself and Santana.

“Welcome to your first high school party,” Rachel said, knocking their cups together.

“And what makes you think this is my first high school party?” Santana asked, sitting back and looking at Rachel in amusement.

“Allow me to rephrase,” Rachel amended, “your first _real_ high school party.”

Santana rolled her eyes. “You upper class gotta be the best at everything, huh?”

Rachel leaned back and settled next to Santana. “You really don’t think much of us, do you?”

Santana shrugged and took a sip. “So far, you’re the only one that’s proven to me that status doesn’t mean everything. Your bestie over there is still one of the biggest bullies McKinley’s ever seen. And nothing she does is accountable. That’s what irritates me the most.”

“Why? Aside from the obvious?”

“Because the saddest thing is that all you Cheerios are gonna go out into the real world and suddenly, there isn’t going to be anyone there to cover your ass if you fuck up.”

Rachel blinked in surprise.

_Shit. That actually makes a lot of sense._

“Whatryou guysss talkinbout?” Brittany slurred, falling over Rachel.

She squinted at Santana who simply raised an eyebrow and took another sip of her drink.

“I know you,” the blonde said slowly, pointing a shaky finger. “Have you alwayyys had the…the…spectecta…spectacaaa-“

“Britt, this is Santana. We’re in Glee with her,” Rachel told her in irritation.

“Santana?” Brittany asked in confusion, but then her eyes went wide. “Santana! Ssssshe’s a good singer. Rachhh likes lisnin’ to her. Pretty voice. Pretty skin.”

Rachel’s eyes popped at that and she heard Santana snort into her cup.

“Britt, I think you’ve had enough to drink,” she said.

“No,” Brittany said stubbornly, but allowing Rachel to sit her up properly. “I want more.”

“Fine, hang on.”

Rachel took Santana’s cup and emptied the contents of her own cup into it and poured lemonade into her empty one.

“Here,” she said, handing her friend the cup of straight lemonade.

Brittany took the proffered ‘alcohol’ and took a big sip. She winced. “Damn, Berry! S’strong! You don’ need to make it so ssstrong.”

Santana actually laughed out loud at Brittany’s protest and Rachel just looked at her and smiled. She turned her body towards Santana and leaned in. Santana met her halfway for a soft kiss. Both of them ignored the catcalls and gasps around them.

“Are all _real_ high school parties this awesome?” Santana asked dryly, swirling her full drink in her cup. “Seriously, no one’s dancing. Everyone just drinks. Pretty sure that’s not how a party’s supposed to go.”

“Oh, give it twenty minutes,” Rachel replied. “These things all happen in cycles. Most people get their second wind at around eleven and the party picks up again. Then it’ll die down at about one if no one’s called the cops.”

“Uh, yeah, first siren I hear and I’m gone,” Santana said. “You haven’t met my dad. He’d kick my ass all the way to Puerto Rico so that my Abuela could kick it all the way back here.”

Rachel chuckled. “I love how you speak.”

Santana frowned and looked at Rachel strangely. “You mean how I use English in its full capacity, as opposed to the shortened dialect the youth of today tend to spout?”

Rachel smiled. “Exactly. And I love how you manipulate the language by adding your own flair.”

Santana smiled. “Thanks, Rachel.” She leaned closer to her ear. “You should see how I manipulate Spanish.”

Rachel felt another shiver run through her. She could only _imagine_ Santana whispering Spanish in her ear as they were pressed up against each-

“Hey, cease and desist!” Santana said, poking Rachel in the ribs. “I know _exactly_ where your mind went.”

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Like you weren’t thinking the exact same thing?”

Santana grinned and took a sip. “Tell me something.”

“What?”

“Anything.”

“Um…okay.” Rachel wracked her brain. “Oh, the first time I kissed a girl I cried.”

Santana spat out the mouthful of vodka she had as she laughed. The Cheerios around them looked at her in disgust, but Rachel dealt with them with a glare.

“You can’t actually be serious?” Santana laughed.

Rachel shrugged. “I think it was because the girl I kissed looked absolutely terrified, like I’d given her rabies or something.”

Santana was still giggling.

“Okay, Miss Smarty Pants. Your turn.”

“I outed myself.”

Rachel froze. “What?”

Santana shrugged. “It wasn’t like I ever pretended not to be gay, but I know how this school works so I figured the earlier everyone found out, the more time they’d have to actually get over themselves and I could just get on with my life. So I came onto that junior, Tracy, and let her own imagination do the rest. But it didn’t go exactly according to my plan…”

“Yeah, enter the upperclassmen, huh?”

Santana smiled. “One day, I’d love to slushie them. Just so that they can feel what it’s like. Not the humiliation or anything, although that’d be tops, but to actually just feel what it’s like to have ice running down your back and have syrup burning your eyes.”

“Maybe you should do that,” Rachel suggested.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea,” Santana scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Really, Rachel? You honestly have no idea what life is like outside of your little bourgeois bubble, do you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rachel asked defensively.

“All I’m saying is that you’re privileged. Yes, you took a slushie for me and it got you major brownie points for Operation Santana, but you’re _still_ in the penthouse. And I’m _still_ in the sewers. And no matter what we do, that’s how it’ll always be. One person can’t make a difference.”

“For someone who preaches about being open-minded, you’re pretty quick to judge.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t!” Santana retorted.

“Like what?”

“You pretty much just proved my point there, Berry.”

“Stop calling me that!” Rachel snapped, causing people around them to lean in closer.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Santana said, shaking her head. “It’s fine for you guys to come up with all sorts of nicknames for me and my friends, but when I call you by your _actual_ surname, I’m offending you? Priceless.”

“I’ve never called you any names.”

“Maybe not to my face,” Santana countered. She sighed. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Why, because I’m not someone who bows down to you?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, please, I’m not blind, Santana. Everyone thinks that Quinn is the bigwig in Glee, but actually, it’s you. You _let_ Quinn be in charge because you can control her. And you control the Glee Club. You play the martyr by standing up for them and taking all the punishment, but really, you just want the control.”

Santana’s eyes narrowed and Rachel feared that she may have overstepped. But Santana was the one that had started attacking her in the first place. It wasn’t in her nature to just sit back and take it.

Santana stood up, but Rachel grabbed her hand. “Where are you going?”  
”If it would please Her Majesty to know, I wish to use the lavatory, if I may?” Santana snapped sarcastically, yanking her hand back.

Rachel fell back into the couch, folding her arms and scowling. Things definitely weren’t going at all according to plan.

* * *

Santana pushed her way through the crowd and headed for the back door. Once outside on a spacious deck, she breathed in the crisp air. Closing her eyes, she just let the noise from inside the house fade away.

“Hey.”

Santana groaned silently. She couldn’t even get two fucking minutes to herself anymore. She turned to Puck.

“What’s up?”

“You here with Rachel?”

“What do you care?” Santana asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I don’t.” Puck shrugged.

“Puck, I don’t give a shit what you do with your Cheerios, but if you hurt Quinn, I swear-“

“Did she say something to you?’ Puck asked urgently.

Santana frowned. “No, is there something she needs to tell me?”

Puck went red and looked down. “I’m sure she’ll tell you if she wants to. I mean, girls talk about that kind of stuff, right? Or maybe cos you like girls too, she won’t.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Uh, nothing,” Puck said quickly, pulling out his phone. “Uh, I gotta take one of my buddies home. He’s totally passed out.”

Santana shook her head. Puck’s phone hadn’t even been on. What the hell was he doing with Quinn? And why hadn’t her supposed best friend even mentioned anything. She pulled out her own phone and typed out a message.

Puck seems to think that there’s something that you and I should be talking about. I’m as curious as he is to know what it’s about.

She took a deep chug of the vodka in her cup, feeling it burn slightly as it went down. Rachel had only been half right – she hadn’t been to the typical high school party, but she was a pro at handling her liquor. She had three older brothers for Christ’s sake. They’d taught their baby sister well.

“Heeeeeey.”

Santana groaned audibly this time as Brittany stumbled outside.

“Iss Santanaaa! Heeeey!”

“You’re drunk,” Santana told her sternly.

“Yup,” Brittany replied proudly. She pouted. “Why you so mean?”

“I’m mean?” Santana asked incredulously. “That’s a little rich coming from you, don’t you think?”

“I dunno what you said now,” Brittany mumbled. “But you…you should be nice to my friend, Rachel. Cos Rachel likes you.”

Santana rolled her eyes.

“An’ I can totally see why cos she told me _everything_. Like how hot you look in your bra and stuff and how you’re sexier than me, but hello! Thass impossible cos I’m alllll kinds o’ sexy. I gots maaah swag on.”

Brittany giggled as she tried to do a sexy shimmy and almost fell over. Instinct overran Santana’s brain and she reached out, grabbing Brittany’s arms and lowering her to the floor.

“I wanna see if you’re sexy than me,” Brittany demanded from her new position on the floor, something she didn’t quite seem to realise.

“Uh huh, keep believing whatever you need to, Wonder Barbie.”

“I’m not a Barbie,” Brittany said in a determined voice. “Who the fugg d’you think you are to call me a Parpie?”

Santana chuckled. At times like this she wished she had the vindictive nature to record Brittany’s ramblings and circulate it around the school on Monday. But it wasn’t who Santana was – something she was debating was a good or bad thing. Her father had always told her that fighting fire with fire only made the fire bigger. You had to fight fire with water to douse their power.

“Where’s your posse?” Santana asked her. “Don’t you have some charioteers that can cart you home?”

Brittany squinted at her. “I dunno what you sayin’. Aren’t you s’posed to be clever or summin’?”

“Yeah, definitely or something,” Santana muttered.

_Why am I even still here?_

She walked towards the door and saw Rachel heading for the stage. She leaned against the doorframe where she had an unobstructed view of her having some words with the lead guitarist. He nodded after a while and Rachel picked up the microphone. Santana’s eyes widened.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, not here. Please God, no, no, no.

“Hey, losers,” Rachel said into the mic, immediately receiving a chorus of cheers and whistles. “So, it’s come to my attention that this party’s kind of blowing so I thought I’d kick it off a little.”

The crowd responded appreciatively and Santana raised an eyebrow. Three weeks in Glee Club and Rachel Berry was suddenly an impromptu performer? Santana wouldn’t deny that she had the talent; in fact, she had oodles of it. She just never pegged Rachel as the impromptu performance type.

“People can come from different worlds, but often all you need is a bridge to bring those two worlds together,” Rachel said softly into the mic and Santana met her eyes.

Rachel gave her a small smile and nodded to the guitarist. She started bouncing as the heavy chords echoed from the speakers. Rachel Berry doing rock? Santana smirked.

_This should be interesting to say the least._

“I'm so addicted to all the things you do when you're going down on me in between the sheets or the sound you make with every breath you take. It's unlike anything when you're loving me.”

Santana blushed. She could see eyes flitting between her and Rachel in her peripheral vision, but Rachel’s eyes were locked on hers and she was giving the song her all.

Once again, Rachel Berry was putting herself out there in song. It was definitely an unorthodox apology – was it even an apology? They both believed what they believed and one little date wasn’t about to change that.

_“I'm so addicted to all the things you do when you roll around with me or the sound you make with every breath you take. It's unlike anything. I'm so addicted to you, addicted to you.”_

One thing was for damn sure. If McKinley High had any doubts about Rachel and Santana sleeping together, Rachel’s song had pretty much decimated any of that.

Santana sighed as Rachel handed the mic back the guitarist who immediately launched into another song as the dance floor was full of people. She stayed where she was and waited for Rachel to come to her.

“Hey,” she breathed when she was standing in front of Santana.

Her eyes were sparkling and Santana recognised the adrenaline of performing as it tingled through her body. She got it every time she sang too.

“What was that supposed to be?” she asked. “Because the only thing it served was to let every single person here know that we’re having sex, when we are most definitely _not_.”

“Jesus, Santana, I was trying to tell you that I know we’re different and hey, we might not be soulmates and grow old together, but that’s not what I’m asking of you. I like you. We do have a few things in common and I’d love to discover more about you. We’re probably going to have a lot of fights because we’re both stubborn and we come from two very different worlds, but maybe that’s not always a bad thing.”

Santana paused for a few moments. “Bridges, huh?” she asked with a smirk.

Rachel smiled shyly and looked down. Santana tipped her chin up.

“You know what lots of fighting means, right?”

Rachel grinned. “Lots of make-up sex.”

“I think we might be able to find some kind of arrangement here,” Santana said softly, leaning down and kissing Rachel.

Hands were quickly on Santana’s waist, fingers digging into her skin as her tongue darted out to trace Rachel’s lips. Rachel moaned and pushed Santana against the door.

“Is this a more obvious way of me asking?” Rachel breathed, pressing their bodies together.

Santana bit her lip and nodded. “You didn’t actually ask, but it’s okay.”

Their mouths met again, open and hungry.

* * *

Brittany’s head was thick and hazy. She felt like she was floating, but she wasn’t going anywhere. God, how much had she had to drink? And _why_ did she drink so much?

She tried standing up, but her stomach protested and she barely had time to turn to the side before the last three hours of alcohol made its reappearance.

“Ew,” Brittany grimaced when she’d stopped heaving.

She did feel infinitely better though. She stood up slowly, using the balcony on the deck as support. She could hear the music and she smiled. She loved the song. Taking a few moments to compose herself, Brittany focused on the door and headed for it.

As she walked through, a voice immediately to her left caught her attention. It only caught her attention because the voice was speaking Spanish and it reminded her that she had to hand in a paper on what she’d done over the summer.

She blinked in surprise at the sight of Santana pressing Rachel against the door, their bodies tight against each other and Santana speaking Spanish in Rachel’s ear while their hands were running all over each other’s bodies.

Wow. That actually looks quite hot.

_What the fuck is wrong with you, Brittany?_

She frowned. That last voice sounded strangely like her mother’s. Why was her mother in hr head?

She wasn’t exactly sure why she was watching her best friend make out (heavily, she might add) with the school weirdo, but someone calling her name snapped her out of her trance.

“Britt!” Finn Hudson was yelling at her, waving frantically.

She grinned. Finn Hudson. He would make a very good plaything. Puck was ancient history. He’d been staring at his phone the whole fucking night, looking like a lost puppy dog. Queen Quinn must’ve done something pretty extravagant to make him so whipped.

But Finn had definite promise. He was on the football team, he had a smoking body _and_ he could dance – something that Brittany found very alluring in any potential plaything. She moved onto the dance floor and took his outstretched hand. They immediately moulded to each other’s body and moved to the music. It was effortless when she danced with Finn. Puck was co-ordinated and could kind of grind, but it wasn’t nearly as fluid as when she was moving with Finn. She also knew that dancers were the best in bed because they were so flexible and agile. Brittany didn’t know from her experience with guys, but she did know that _she_ was flexible and agile and that any guy who could do what she did, could only be great in the sack.

Brittany spun around, remembering that if she wanted any kind of action, she was going to need to visit the bathroom to rid her mouth of its terrible vomit aftertaste.

She motioned to Finn that she was going to the bathroom and pushed her way through the crowd. She immediately went to the upstairs bathroom even though Artie told everyone they weren’t allowed upstairs.

She pushed the bathroom door open and froze.

“Oh, fuck,” Rachel giggled, pulling her top up to cover her chest.

Santana had Rachel pressed up against the sink, her thigh in between her legs. Rachel’s bra was lying on the ground and Santana’s shirt was underneath it. Brittany’s eyes met Santana’s and the dark desire that was pulsating through them made her shiver.

What the fuck? Okay, so you just caught your best friend about to do the nasty. So what? It wouldn’t be the first time. But…

It had to be because she was horny too. She hadn’t been underneath anyone since Puck dumped her the first week of school and she was pretty damn desperate.

“Are you done?” Brittany eventually asked.

“Does it _look_ like we’re done?” Santana snapped back, her hands disappearing under Rachel’s top.

Brittany watched her hands moving under the white top and saw Rachel’s eyes widen and a yelp escape her lips. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed. What the hell was wrong with her?

When she opened them again, she figured she probably should’ve left them closed. Santana was rocking her hips against Rachel’s and they were kissing furiously. Brittany found herself briefly wondering what it would feel like. It looked incredibly sensual. Soft, yet so passionate. Did she look like with guys? With Puck, or with Finn? She doubted it – they weren’t soft.

_WAIT! Jesus, Brittany! What the fuck is going on with you?_

Rachel moaned and Brittany quickly pulled the door closed, hating how flushed she suddenly felt. It was the alcohol, definitely. And the adrenaline of dancing. And she was fucking horny! That was it. There was no other explanation why seeing Rachel and Santana had turned her on so much. It was just a combination of things.

_Yup. That’s exactly it. Now where’s Artie’s parents’ room again?_

* * *

“God, I thought she’d never leave,” Santana mumbled against Rachel’s neck, licking the skin she’d just marked.

“Hmmm,” Rachel murmured, tangling her fingers in Santana’s hair and arching back into the delicious friction the Santana was providing between her legs.

Santana pulled the white top that Rachel had half put on to cover herself and let her mouth run against the smooth skin of her chest. Rachel hissed as Santana took a nipple in her mouth and swirled it around with her tongue.

“Fuck!”

“That’s the general idea,” Santana replied after releasing the stiff nipple with a pop.

She was about to move to Rachel’s other breast when her phone went off. Knowing that it could be her parents, Santana pulled back and reached into her back pocket.

“No, don’t stop,” Rachel moaned, kissing Santana’s neck.

Santana froze as she read the text message. Rachel felt it and stopped kissing her neck.

“What is it?” she whispered.

Santana showed her the screen. It was a message from Quinn.

_I’m pregnant._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

“It’s just up here,” Santana directed, sitting slightly forward in her seat.

Rachel pulled into Quinn’s driveway and Santana opened the door.

“Thanks, Rach,” she said, stepping out. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Rachel turned off her car and opened her door.

“What are you doing?” Santana asked with a frown.

“Um, coming with you?” Rachel replied, matching her frown.

“Definitely not,” Santana said firmly, closing the car door forcefully.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m her best friend and you’re a cheerleader.” Even as she said it, she realised how pathetic it sounded.

Rachel folded her arms across her chest and just looked at Santana expectantly. “Any other reason that might actually make sense?”

“Look, Quinn needs me. We’ve known each other since middle school. She’s going to feel overwhelmed if a virtual stranger rocks up after she’s told me something incredibly personal.”

”You showed me the text,” Rachel countered.

“Yeah, something I’m regretting,” Santana muttered, running a hand through her hair.

“Santana, you can’t keep blowing hot and cold like this,” Rachel burst out, throwing her hands up. “One minute we’re seconds away from having sex, the next we’re fighting, the next we’re being all sweet with each other and then we’re back to fighting.”

“Pretty sure we established that any relationship between us was going to involve fighting,” Santana replied, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah, well maybe I misjudged what I want out of a relationship with you,” Rachel mumbled, looking down at the ground.

“Jesus, Rachel, I never _asked_ you to come after me. I was perfectly happy by myself until you decided to come throw a spanner in the works by trying to make a play for me. You’ve never even _been_ in a relationship before. What makes you think that you want one with me?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you!” Rachel shouted in exasperation. “God, ever since that day I joined Glee everything reminds me of you. I go to the mall and I think how you would hate this or like that or wonder if you’d enjoy watching a particular movie or what your idea of a perfect date would be. It’s driving me _crazy_! Argh!”

Rachel climbed back into her car and revved the Thunderbird’s engine loudly before reversing quickly down the driveway with a squeal of the tyres.

Santana just stared after her as she peeled off down the road.

_What?_

Had that honestly just happened? Santana shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. It felt like she’d entered some crazy parallel universe where Rachel Berry liked her – like _liked_ her – and her best friend was pregnant with the head cheerleader’s boyfriend’s baby.

“Jesus, Quinn. What have you got yourself into?”

Santana walked up around to the side of the house where she looked up and saw Quinn’s room in darkness. She sighed and started her climb up the wall to Quinn’s window. She probably wouldn’t be able to make the ascent if it hadn’t been for her years in gymnastics, but she’d made the climb enough times since quitting gym to know how to do it without killing herself.

Granted, Santana hadn’t needed to shimmy up the side of Quinn’s house of late because she’d been there most of the time during summer. Quinn’s parents were very strict about their darling daughter sticking to her curfew during schooltime, and that included weekends.

It made Santana wonder how in the hell Quinn had even managed to have sex with her parents’ pre-planned schedules. They accounted for her every second of the day, making sure that she was always doing something that would give her a competitive edge.

After Quinn’s mother had failed on Broadway (mostly due to the fact that she couldn’t sing and her dancing was average at best – and that was when she was drunk), she and Quinn’s father had done everything necessary to all but force their daughter into the arts. Santana knew that Quinn enjoyed the singing and dancing that she did, but she often wondered how much of what Quinn did was for her parents and how much was actually for herself.

Santana was very lucky in that her parents were pretty lax with what she did in her spare time as long as it wasn’t illegal and she still worked hard at school. Well, keeping her 4.0 GPA wasn’t easy, but Santana had been blessed with a brain and she kept it challenged at every chance. Yeah, she was the captain of the academic decathlon team and all her classes were AP, but she actually enjoyed it.

_Wait, how did I end up going over what I’m doing with her life when my best friend is a hair’s breadth away from ruining hers forever?_

Santana pulled herself up onto the ledge next to Quinn’s window and rapped softly on the glass. It was after one so Quinn’s parents should be passed out and Santana knew for sure that Mrs. Fabray would not be waking up until late the next morning. Quinn, however, was a light sleeper, so not soon after Santana knocked, the window slid open and Quinn simply stood back to let her swing inside.

“Hey,” Santana whispered.

“Hey.”

She didn’t think she’d ever heard Quinn sound so defeated.

“Quinnie,” Santana said softly, following her to the bed.

She kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, opening her arms to Quinn, who simply fell into them, her shoulders shaking. Santana just held her as she cried quietly, stroking her back gently. After about ten minutes, Quinn seemed to have settled.

“Is it Puck’s?” Santana asked quietly. She didn’t believe in beating around the bush. She didn’t need to coddle Quinn either – they’d been friends long enough to know that they’d be there for each other regardless.

Quinn just nodded once.

“Quinnie, what on earth happened?”

“It was during summer,” Quinn whispered, resting her cheek on Santana’s stomach. “Noah was working at the coffee shop next to the dance studio and we ran into each other. He offered to walk me home, but I told him to find his floozy and leave me alone.”

Santana couldn’t help but chuckle quietly at that. She’d taught Quinn well…or so she’d thought.

“But he kept ‘accidentally’ running into me as I left the studio. At first it was twice a week, but then he started doing it every day. Eventually I told him to stop stalking me or else I’d empty my pepper spray in his eyes.” She sighed. “I don’t know how it happened, but the next day when he wasn’t there, I realised how much I actually enjoyed the attention.”

”Quinnie, you’re beautiful,” Santana whispered, running a hand through her hair. “Just because a good-looking guy started-“

“San, don’t patronise me,” Quinn interrupted, lifting her head and glaring at her.

Santana raised her hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to. I just meant that there are-“

“Really, San?” Quinn said bitterly. “Do you see any guys coming up to me and asking for my number? No, they don’t. Because I’m the crazy drama kid who overachieves. It was just nice to be noticed.”

Santana didn’t really have a response to that. Quinn had never had a boyfriend before. Her parents had ensured that her focus was always on her future and told her that boys were simply a distraction. They actually frowned at Santana’s cavalier attitude towards relationships, but Santana couldn’t care less what the Fabrays thought of her. And two relationships was hardly as promiscuous as they made her sound.

“So the next day I went into the coffee shop to order some coffee, like legitimately,” Quinn continued, resting her head back on Santana’s stomach, “and Puck wrote on my cup that I looked pretty.”

Santana rolled her eyes. The Noah Puckerman she knew didn’t think, let alone write, shit like that. He was Wonder Barbie’s Ken doll and had been just as obnoxious as his girlfriend all through freshman year.

“I know what you think about him, San,” Quinn added quietly. “And I knew him as that guy, too. But after that, he’d meet me outside the studio every day with a coffee and a new little message. It… _he_ started to grow on me.”

“Quinnie, how is this the first I’m hearing about this?” Santana asked softly, trying to keep her irritation in check. “I was here practically every day after your dancing.”

“I know how much you hate the jocks,” Quinn mumbled. “And I didn’t want to hear a told you so until I’d felt Puck out.”

”Guess you did that,” Santana muttered before her filter could kick in. “Sorry,” she amended quickly. “We’ll chalk that one under the Tourette’s column, shall we?”

Quinn sighed. “So three weeks before school was about to start, he asked me out. Like, on a date.”

“Could I interject?”

Quinn nodded.

“You knew that he was sleeping with Brittany the whole time, right?”

Quinn raised her head to look at Santana in surprise.

“Seriously, Quinn? Before Puck dumped her ass the first week of school, they’d still been going at it like rabbits.”

Santana hated how much pain filled Quinn’s eyes at the realisation that Puck had probably just been playing her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling Quinn back into a tight hug.

She waited until the new set of tears had subsided before speaking. “So, I’m guessing he took you somewhere secluded where no one from McKinley would recognise you.”

“H-he took me out to Gordon’s Field,” Quinn whispered. “He brought a picnic and everything. He was so sweet and funny the whole time and then he kissed me. It felt really nice and I kissed him back.” Her shoulders started to shake again. “One thing just led to another, but he was actually quite gentle. It…it didn’t hurt that much.”

Santana sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll have to take that into account when I’m breaking his balls.”

“San, please,” Quinn pleaded.

“Are you shitting me, Quinn?” Santana whispered furiously. “This guy leads you on, takes your virginity, knocks you up and you _don’t_ expect me to kick his ass?”

“I found out I was pregnant the day before school started up again,” Quinn continued, ignoring Santana’s question.

“Well, that would expect why I didn’t hear from you all day,” Santana muttered.

“I told Puck to meet me after dance and I told him. You should’ve seen his face, San. He was devastated. He asked me what I was going to do about-“

“Son of a bitch, I am going to _kill_ him.”

“He asked me what I was going to do about money for doctors and stuff, San,” Quinn said.

“Are…are you keeping the baby, Quinn?” Santana asked in disbelief.

“I’m not sure,” she whispered. “Noah’s been amazing these last few weeks. He’s been so attentive and caring. It made me think that maybe he really might actually care about me.”  
Santana leaned her head against the headboard. If she had to be honest, she had noticed Puck’s lack of douchiness around Quinn of late. It sure as shit didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to have a few _choice_ words with him.

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you, San?” Quinn asked fearfully.

“You insult me with the insinuation,” she muttered.

“I just…I can’t have anyone else knowing. Not until I’ve decided what I’m doing with…it.”

Santana nodded. “You can trust me, Quinn,” she said softly. “You know that, right?”

Quinn nodded.

“Why don’t you try and get some sleep?” Santana suggested. “I’ll wait till you’re incapacitated before I leave.”

“Can’t you stay?” Quinn begged.

Santana smiled. “Sure. Just gotta let the battleaxe know where I am. She’s probably salivating at the mouth, awaiting news of my impending return after my night of debauchery.”

Quinn let out a giggle and Santana gave herself a mental pat on the back. She fired off a quick text to her mom.

“Wait, debauchery?” Quinn repeated.

“Yup.”

“With whom?”

“One guess.”

“No.”

Santana shrugged. “I decided to give her a try. And she’s actually really full of surprises.” She frowned, running through the events of the night. She didn’t think she’d had such an up and down night in her life.

“So did you…?”

“You want a play by play?” Santana teased.

“Dear God, no,” Quinn said quickly, rolling off her and onto the pillow next to Santana.

Santana laughed softly. “We didn’t. Not for lack of trying, though. Brittany walked in on us and just stared. Like she was _staring_. It was weird.”

“Do you think she’s…?”

“Wonder Barbie?” Santana chuckled. “Fuck no. Straight as William Tell’s arrow. Although, she was acting a little strange towards Rachel and me. Maybe it’s because she was drunk.” She shrugged.

“I wonder if she knows about the huge crush you had on her the first half of freshman year,” Quinn teased with a wicked smile.

Santana’s eyes widened. “I swear if you _ever_ say anything, I will post that video of you at last year’s spring break party that we went to with my brothers.”

“You wouldn’t!” Quinn gasped.

“Try me,” Santana said evenly, holding her gaze with a smirk.

Quinn sighed. “Fine.”

She fluffed up her pillow and got comfortable. Santana settled down to lay flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling. After everything that Brittany had done to her, she’d actually pretty much forgotten about the butterflies that had stirred violently in her stomach when she’d first seen her.

“San?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you still think she looks like the most beautiful girl in all the galaxies?”

Santana grabbed the pillow from behind her head and threw it at Quinn, hitting her in the face. She turned around, facing the window and closed her eyes. She allowed a small smile to cross her face when she heard Quinn giggling softly.

After about ten minutes, she could hear Quinn breathing deeply so she let sleep pull her under too.

* * *

Santana grinned when she saw Quinn standing outside of the school. She pushed her glasses up her nose and jogged to her best friend.

_“Hey,” she greeted with a smile._

_“Morning.”_

_“Geez, when did you become your mother?” Santana teased, bumping Quinn’s shoulder._

_“We’re in_ high school _now, San. We need to start acting like adults.”_

_Santana chuckled. “Quinnie, we’re fifteen. We’ve got four years in this place. I’m gonna worry about being an adult when I actually get there.”_

_“Santana, everything we do from here on will affect our future,” Quinn said seriously._

_“Jesus, what brain drain did your parents put you on over the summer?” Santana grumbled._

_“I heard that,” Quinn snapped._

_Santana rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I plan to enjoy my time because for the first time in the history of my school career, I don’t have four hours of gym every day after school.”_

_“You’re seriously going through with that?” Quinn asked sceptically._

_Santana shrugged. “My optometrist says that the contacts they make me wear aren’t helping me at all. Besides, I’m over the competitions and the bitchiness and the endless muscle cramps and calluses.” She sighed. “I just want to be normal.”_

_“You know what the definition is for that, right?” Quinn teased._

_Santana raised an eyebrow in response._

_“Not you.”_

_“Joke of the day, ladies and gents,” Santana said dryly._

_“Face it, San, you’re a dork. You’re a geek and a nerd and a…”_

_Santana tuned her out as all of her senses were completely taken over by a tall blonde making her way up the stairs to the front door. She was wearing tight jeans with a halter top, exposing a sliver of creamy skin between the top and her jeans. She was gorgeously tanned and Santana could see with her trained eye, that this girl was fit. She did something that made her incredibly muscular and toned, but not in a bad way. It was in a very, very good way. She had long blonde hair that sat on her shoulders in waves and she glanced at Santana as she walked past and Santana felt her heart catch in her throat. No one in the history of all the worlds in existence, fiction or reality, could possess more beautiful eyes. They were a crystal blue that could rival any jewel’s brightness and sparkle._

_“San!”_

_Quinn was shaking her._

_“What?” Santana snapped, her eyes never leaving the mystery blonde that disappeared through the doors of their high school._

_“What the hell?” Quinn asked. “I’ve been talking to you, but you were totally ignoring me.”_

_“Uh huh,” Santana replied. “Come on, we should go and explore.”_

_“Wait, what? Santana?”_

_Santana pushed one of the doors open and looked around, spotting a flash of blonde disappearing around the next corner. She walked quickly to catch up and paused before she rounded the same corner. Next thing she knew, she was flat on her ass._

_“Watch where you’re going, freshman,” a jock sneered disdainfully. “Yo, Abrams. Looks like we got your first victim of the new year!”_

_Santana frowned and pushed herself onto her elbows. Her glasses were skew on her face. As soon as her vision was properly restored, her eyes rested on the mystery blonde. And she was looking straight at her with a pitiful smirk._

_Santana frowned._

_“Welcome to McKinley, Four-eyes,” a nasally voice said above her._

_She looked up and saw red heading for her face. Instinct kicked in and she pushed her feet against the lockers, rolling backwards onto the feet. She was crouched and looked up in time to see red slushie hit the floor that she’d been occupying not two seconds before._

_“Whoa, Four-Eyes got some skills,” the nasally jock commented with a laugh. “Just as well we have a two for one special on today.”_

_Santana didn’t even have a chance to react before she felt the cold slushie hit her head and drip down everywhere – the back of her shirt, into her bra, into her shoes. She shut her eyes and grit her teeth against the cold. Holy shit, it was colder than being hit with a fucking snowball. Probably because it was going everywhere._

_Santana took a deep breath and stood up. She smirked at the jocks still standing close by and took of her glasses. Before_ they _had a chance to react, she shook her head violently, sending bits of slushie flying everywhere._

_“Bitch!”_

_Santana felt better when she put her glasses back on and saw the jocks covered in flecks of red slushie.  
_

_"Thanks for the shower, guys,” she said, using her finger to catch some syrup running down her cheek and sucking it. “But next time could you go for grape? I’m not really a big fan of cherries. And preferably come up with a more original nickname? I’m pretty sure Four-eyes is about as old as your haircut.”_

_Santana turned and walked towards the mystery blonde who was now laughing openly along with a few other people around. And what a musical sound it was. She was pretty sure that no other laugh could ever sound as amazing.  
_

_”Santana!”_

_She spun around as she was approaching the blonde and saw Quinn indicating that they go the other way. Quinn’s eyes went wide when she took in the sight of her._

_“What the hell happened?”_

_“Orientation,” Santana muttered, shaking her arms of rapidly melting slushie. Hey, she was Latina. She was hot-blooded. Plus, she was pissed._

_“Shit. What do we do?”_

_“Ladies, follow me.”_

_The girls looked up to see a tall blonde teacher._

_“I’m Miss Sylvester. I’ll show you where the locker rooms are. I’ll get you a gym shirt to wear instead of that one.”_

_“Thanks,” Santana said with a smile._

_They turned to follow the teacher and Santana glanced back to the mystery blonde and Quinn followed her gaze._

_“Who’s that?” she queried._

_Santana sighed wistfully. “I have no idea. But she’s the most beautiful girl in all the galaxies and I think I may just be in love.”_

_Quinn chuckled. “You’re such a dork.”_

* * *

Monday came around and Santana was on a mission. Screw her promise to Quinn. She was going to make sure that Fuckerman realised who exactly he was dealing with. Santana Lopez may get a slushie every day, but when it came to her friends, _especially_ her best friend, shit got personal.

She completely ignored Rachel, who tried to catch her eye, and headed for Puck, who was standing next to his locker with some of his buddies after lunch.

“Hey, it’s Lezpez!” one of the jocks cheered. “You and Berry bang yet?”

“So charming,” Santana drawled. “And people at this school are _so_ bewildered by my preference to women.” She focused on Puck. “You, come with me.”

“Uh, why?”

“Did I give a reason?” Santana snapped. “Let’s go, Noah.”

Puck’s friends jeered him as Santana pushed past them. One of them made the worst mistake of their life by attempting a grope. Santana immediately stopped and spun around slowly. She was met with a cocky grin.

 _Oh, this day was just getting better_.

“You know what the great thing about my ass is?” she said sweetly.

“It’d look good under me?” the jock leered.

Santana tried not to throw up.

“Hmmm, close, but no. It looks great because my three older brothers trained me to defend myself when assholes like you try and get frisky.”

Santana allowed a few seconds for that to sink in before she raised her knee quickly, hitting him in the groin. She smirked as he doubled over in pain. Not wasting any time, she spun on her heel and grabbed Puck’s jacket, pulling him behind her.

* * *

“Where the hell is _she_ going?” Brittany commented, looking behind Rachel.

Rachel turned around and saw Santana practically dragging Puck behind her. Santana pushed the door to the parking lot open and pulled Brittany’s ex along with her.

Rachel turned back to her locker and swallowed. She was pissed at Santana, sure, but the secret that she’d been keeping all weekend was eating away at her. She’d never kept a secret like it before, _especially_ when it was fodder for great gossip.

Only problem was, Santana would _kill_ her if she said anything. And as angry as Rachel had been, she’d actually missed her too. Like insanely. She sighed to herself.

“Dude, he’s not going to be able to walk for a week!” a voice chuckled behind her. “Lezpez got him _good_.”

“What?” she asked, turning around.

Two football players stopped and grinned at them.

“Hello, ladies,” Mike Chang said, swinging an arm around Brittany’s shoulders.

The blonde rolled her eyes. “Back off, Chang. I still remember you making out with your sister at my party last year. Gross.”

Mike threw up his hands in exasperation. “Christ! She’s _not_ my sister! We just have the same surname!”

“Whatever,” Brittany replied, smirking at Rachel.

“Who’s not going to be able to walk?” Rachel asked.

“Oh, Lezpez kneeled Kyle in the junk,” Greg said, laughing. “I think he’s still lying on the ground.”

“Why’d she do that?” Rachel asked in surprise. Santana had never retaliated before.

“Kyle grabbed her ass,” Mike said.

“Idiot,” Brittany chuckled. “That’s his own fault.” She turned to Rachel. “You must’ve seriously pissed her off on Friday.”

“The way I saw it, the opposite was happening,” Greg teased.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Seriously, as if I’m going to tell you _anything_ that happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Brittany said.

“B!”

“What?” Brittany shrugged. “You haven’t shut up about it all fucking weekend. You still haven’t told me why you guys left so quickly.”

“Because _you_ walked in on us and wouldn’t leave,” she retorted back, slamming her locker closed. “Excuse me.”

Rachel stalked in the direction of the parking lot, smiling to herself at the look of shock and embarrassment on Brittany’s face.

* * *

“Geez, Santana, I can walk, you know,” Puck whined, trying to wiggle away from her vice grip on him.

“Nice try, Fuckerman,” Santana snapped. “Your tricks may work on the girls who _like_ what you have to offer, but you’ll never get lucky with me so drop the act right now.”

“What act?”

Santana pulled Puck in front of her and pushed him against the line of dumpsters. She considered it poetic.

“Don’t fuck around with me,” she said in a low voice. “I know about you and Quinn.”

Puck’s face showed an interesting myriad of expressions and Santana frowned. He looked scared, the relieved, then concerned.

“Who else knows?” he asked quietly.

“Just me,” Santana replied, and Puck breathed out a sigh of relief, “and Rachel.”

“What?” Puck barked, eyes blazing. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Well, hello, Noah Puckerman that we all know and despise.

“She was with me when Quinn sent me the text,” Santana said sternly. “Trust me, if I could, I wouldn’t have let her see it. Regardless, there’s nothing we can do about that now.”

Puck ran a hand over his mohawk and Santana rolled her eyes.

“What do you want with me, Santana?” he asked eventually.

She replied by pushing him back against the dumpsters hard.

“The fuck, Lopez?”

“ _That_ was for lying to Quinn,” Santana seethed, her eyes blazing.

She pushed him again and he landed heavily against them.

“That was for taking advantage of an amazing girl.”

“Wait-“

“Shut up. You don’t talk until I’m done,” Santana snapped, holding up a finger.

Rage was shaking off her. Since starting high school and undertaking the daily slushies, she’d learned to keep a very tight lid on her temper, but it was about Quinn and she was like a sister to Santana. Family was _always_ first.

She pushed him back again, but he stood tall, his eyes narrowing. He took a step forward.

“What, you gonna push me back, Fuckerman?” Santana taunted, itching to beat the shit out of this piece of crap.

“Very tempting,” he said through gritted teeth. “Are you done? Am I allowed to defend myself?”

“Answer me this,” Santana replied. “When you slept with Quinn, were you or were you not still fucking around with Brittany?”

Puck’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

“Great. That means I get to really hurt you now,” Santana said with a smirk and clenched her fist, ready to let it fly towards Puck’s face.

What she didn’t expect was another hand to hold her back.

“Santana, stop it,” Rachel said.

She whirled around. “First off, you have _no_ business being here right now. And second, touching me when I’m _this_ pissed is highly ill-advised.”

“Calm down,” Rachel said firmly, tightening her grip on Santana’s wrist. “I’m not letting you go until you unclench your fist. Don’t even _think_ about leaving, Puck,” she snapped at the jock behind Santana.

Santana glanced behind and saw Puck leaning against one of the dumpsters in resignation, his hands in his pockets.

“Rachel, what are you doing here?” Santana asked in a low voice, trying to control her anger because she really didn’t want to hit a cheerleader. She had no problem hitting jocks, but she refrained from fighting with girls as much as she could.

“I saw you drag him outside and I put two and two together,” she replied. “I get that you’re probably pissed as hell at him, but I’m pretty sure Quinn wouldn’t approve of you doing this.”

Santana scowled. “Rachel, you don’t _get_ it. He fucking played her the whole _fucking_ time. He was still sleeping with Brittany when he slept with Quinn!”

“What?”

Santana and Rachel both turned and saw Brittany standing a few feet away, a look of disbelief on her face.

“You two-timing _asshole_. You slept with that fucking loser?”

“Be _very_ careful about your choice of words, Wonder Barbie,” Santana said through her teeth.

She felt Rachel tighten her hold on her wrist and part of her was thankful otherwise she’d probably be tearing Brittany’s throat out in a matter of seconds.

“Will everyone just calm the fuck down!” Puck yelled in frustration.

“I don’t think you get to say _any_ thing right now, Fuckerman,” Santana retorted. “You’re the cause of this whole mess.”

“So that’s why you dumped me?” Brittany asked, stepping closer to them. “You dipped your dick into a cherry pond and decided that I wasn’t good enough anymore?”

“This isn’t about you either, Brittany,” Rachel said quietly.

“Pretty sure that _I’m_ the one that got dumped here, Rach,” Brittany replied. “So, yeah, I _definitely_ think that this is about me.”

“Typical,” Santana scoffed.

“What was that, Lupus?” Brittany asked, stepping very close to her. “You got something you wanna say to me?”

Santana strained against Rachel’s grip, but she was deceptively strong. Rachel stepped between her and Brittany, looking up at her friend.

“I _know_ you’re not actually taking her side right now, Rachel,” Brittany spat. “Because you know what a big mistake that would be.”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side-“

“Then let me go so that I can finally beat this bitch down to size,” Santana said, her hard eyes meeting blue ones that once upon a time she’d claimed were the most beautiful eyes in the world.

The naivety of a freshman. Just as well you got a new prescription a few weeks later.

“Santana, back off,” Rachel said firmly, glancing back. “Let me handle this. Go and talk to Puck.”

Santana held Brittany’s gaze until she felt Rachel turn around and release her wrist. She immediately took a step forward but felt two hands on either side of her face, forcing her eyes down. They met Rachel’s and Santana strangely felt herself calming down slightly.

What the fuck? Does Berry have some psycho telepathic meditation voodoo shit going on?

“Please?”

It was one word and Santana couldn’t understand _how_ Rachel was controlling her actions so easily. What the hell was happening to her?

“You know who this is about,” Santana finally said, looking earnestly into Rachel’s eyes. “I need you to help me protect her.”

“Could someone please clue me in as to what the _fuck_ is going on here?” Brittany shouted.

Rachel nodded and released Santana, leaning up to peck her lips. “Come find me later?”

Santana nodded and met Brittany’s icy gaze one last time before turning her attention back to Puck. He looked bored so Santana hooked a foot behind his knee and pulled, causing his legs to buckle.

“Jesus!”

“Yeah, you’d better fucking pray, _Noah_ ,” Santana said in a low, but very firm voice. “For some unfathomable reason, Quinn actually thinks that you’re a decent guy. Me, I’m pretty set on you being the world’s biggest douchebag.”

Santana glanced behind her and saw Rachel manoeuvring Brittany away from them, but the latter was still sending daggers her way. Just to add gas to the fire, Santana blew her a kiss.

“Why in the _hell_ did you not use protection?” Santana whispered fiercely, not wanting to risk Brittany overhearing her. “You knew it was her first time!”

“I-I-I honestly didn’t expect anything to happen,” Puck stammered. “Seriously. After spending a lot of time together, I found out that Quinn is actually a really cool chick that I really like. Plus, she’d totally smokin’. I mean, obviously I’m attracted to her, but I don’t think either of us meant for things to go that far.”

“Yes, and such a responsible young lad such as yourself couldn’t _possibly_ muster up the self-control to stop,” Santana said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Puck shrugged. “Look, I’ve done my apologising to Quinn already and as far as I’m concerned, her forgiveness is all I need. I don’t have to answer to you or Brittany or anyone else.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Santana replied, her voice hitching a little in anger. “Quinn is like my sister. And you knocked her up. Which makes me that really protective older sister. Only I can actually kick your ass. So be _very_ careful about what you say to me. Got it?”

Puck nodded.

“Good.”

Santana pushed him back into the dumpsters one more time for good measure.

“You’re an asshole, Noah Puckerman, and not much will change my mind on that. Now, you’re gonna go and find my beautiful friend and apologise profusely, begging her forgiveness for fucking around with her. She already knows that you were banging Wonder Barbie at the same time you decided to pop her cherry, so believe me when I tell you that she’s less than pleased with you.”

“You _told_ her?”

“Just because I like girls doesn’t mean we don’t tell each other _everything_ ,” Santana smirked, folding her arms across her chest.

“Look, Santana, I really care about her,” Puck began.

“Do you want to keep the baby?”

Puck was quiet.

“You’d better be honest with me, Puck. Are you ready to have a kid? The whole nine yards? Waking up every three hours? Crying non-stop? Dirty nappies? Kindergarten? High school? College? Are you going to be there for all of that? Because let me tell you, if you fuck off somewhere at any point, I _will_ find you.”

“No,” Puck said finally. “I can’t have a kid. I’m seventeen. I don’t…”

“Then you need to tell her that,” Santana said, a little gentler. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want a baby either, but you guys _have_ to talk about this kind of stuff because it involves both of you.”

Puck nodded. “I will. I’ll talk to her after school. Cover for us with Miss S?”

Santana nodded. “Don’t make me regret not castrating you, Puckerman,” she warned.

Puck held up his hands. “Trust me, I think I’m pretty much terrified of what you could do to me. I’m not gonna fuck this up, okay?”

Santana glared at him for a few moments before satisfying her conscience. Puck stepped cautiously around her and headed quickly back inside. Santana turned around and leaned against the dumpster that Puck had been roughed up against. She let herself slide to the floor and dropped her head onto her knees.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, but felt cool hands resting on her arms. She raised her head and saw Rachel’s concerned eyes looking back at her.

“You okay?” she asked.

Santana shrugged. “Tell me that my sixteen-year-old best friend isn’t pregnant and maybe I will be.” She sighed. “Brittany?”

“I took care of her,” Rachel said simply. Her fingers started to make soothing patterns on Santana’s arms. “You wanna get out of here?”

Santana looked at her watch. “Yeah, I’ve pretty much missed all of Spanish, but I have Trig next so-“

“No, I meant get out of here,” Rachel interrupted with a smile.

Santana blinked. “You mean skip?”

“You’ve never skipped, have you?”

Santana just shook her head. “I don’t even think I can. I’d feel too guilty.”

Rachel chuckled and sat down in front of Santana, crossing her legs.

“What?”

“I just find it so funny that you don’t think twice about beating someone up, but skipping class weighs down on your guilty conscience.”

Santana shrugged. “I’m a nerdy badass. What do you expect?”

Rachel smiled. “I expect you to live a little. Come on, what’s the worst that could happen, huh?”

Santana looked down at Rachel’s fingers drawing patterns on her arms, then raised her eyes to meet Rachel’s teasing ones.  
”Okay,” she breathed. “But we’re going to the movies and I get to choose.”

“Deal,” Rachel replied immediately with a huge smile.

She jumped up and pulled Santana to her feet.

“I have a feeling that you’re going to be a very bad influence on me,” Santana muttered, letting Rachel pull her to her car.

“One can only hope,” Rachel replied with a wink.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

Santana glanced at Rachel, who was sitting in the back row, but on the opposite end to where she was. The cheerleader met her sidelong gaze and smiled, winking seductively. Santana grinned and raised an eyebrow.

They were the only two in the choir room because the last period of the day was actually still in session. They’d snuck back into school and decided to wait in the choir room. They’d also decided that sitting on opposite ends of the room would be advisable considering that they’d pretty much made out for the entire duration of the movie they’d gone to watch. Or not watched.

Santana glanced at the clock and saw that there was still another ten minutes until the bell would ring. She needed to find something to occupy her time. Like _now_. Because Rachel was giving her that predatory look that Santana had quickly interpreted to mean that she should expect Rachel to jump her in the very near future.

Just as Rachel stood up, swishing her Cheerios skirt to purposefully give Santana an eyeful of the red spankies that Santana had become fond of gripping, so did she, jumping onto the floor and heading for the piano.

Rachel frowned, but simply leaned against the wall as Santana sat down and ran her fingers lightly over the keys. She started playing softly and humming. It didn’t take much for her to lose herself in music and she didn’t hear Rachel moving until she looked up and saw her leaning on the piano, watching Santana’s fingers run over they black and white keys.

Santana smiled up at her and started singing the words to a very toned-down version of probably the most clichéd song she could ever sing.

_“This was never the way I planned, not my intention. I got so brave, drink in hand, lost my discretion. It's not what I'm used to, just wanna try you on. I'm curious for you, caught my attention.”_

Rachel chuckled and Santana simply smiled.

_“I kissed a girl and I liked it. The taste of her berry chap-stick.”_

Rachel grinned and moved to sit down next to Santana when she deliberately said the wrong words.

_“It felt so wrong, it felt so right. Don't mean I'm in love tonight. I kissed a girl and I liked it.”_ _  
_

Rachel leaned towards Santana and kissed her cheek. She smiled again. Rachel was definitely surprising her with this seemingly out of character behaviour. Santana had never pegged her to be romantic in any sense, but she’d taken her to movies (even though they didn’t actually see anything), bought her popcorn and soda and took her for ice cream afterwards. Santana had to admit that she was impressed.

_“Us girls we are so magical, soft skin, red lips, so kissable. Hard to resist so touchable. Too good to deny it. Ain't no big deal, it's innocent.”_

Rachel scoffed and ran her fingers through Santana’s hair as she finished off the song with a flurry of fingers over the keys. Rachel laughed and clapped her hands.

“Well, well, Miss Lopez, aren’t you just full of surprises,” she commented.

“What, you didn’t think I’d be good with my fingers?” Santana replied with a smirk, realising afterwards that it probably wasn’t the best thing to say considering she was trying to dissuade Rachel from trying her best to knot their tongues together.

“I guess you’ll just have to show me how good,” Rachel replied, leaning towards Santana to grab her bottom lip between her teeth and running her tongue across it.

Santana closed her eyes and tried to calm her breathing. She’d never _ever_ expected that Rachel Berry would be the one to get her blood boiling like this, but shit it felt awesome. And she was fucking smoking hot so that was a big plus.

“We can’t do this here,” Santana whispered, trailing kisses down Rachel’s heated neck.

“So stop,” Rachel replied breathlessly, her hands tightening on Santana’s thighs.

“Hmmm.”

She totally was going to. Really, she was. It wasn’t like she had no self-control. Sure, she was a teenager and hadn’t had sex in about six months, but she was rational enough to make sure that her libido wouldn’t run away with her.

“Fuck,” Rachel gasped as Santana’s tongue circled her earlobe and sucked gently.

Before she knew what was happening, Rachel was straddling her and kissing her furiously. Santana happily let her hands run over the bare skin afforded to her by the best skirt ever invented.

They were both so lost in each other that neither heard the bell.

* * *

Brittany rubbed her forehead as she peered at her reflection in the mirror. She had lines etched into her skin from frowning for most of the day.

Even though Rachel had talked her down from beating Santana Lopez to a pulp, she was still pissed at Puck. And at Rachel, actually. She couldn’t believe that her best friend had taken Slowpez’s side. The dork must have her seriously whipped.

Brittany sighed and stared at her reflection. She was hot, right? She may be a bitch, but she was sexy as hell and a damn good cheerleader and dancer. _And_ she was captain. So why the hell had Puck messed around with Queen Quinn when he was getting all his needs met from her?

It irked her to say the least. To add insult to injury, he’d chosen _her_. Who the hell was a better choice? Brittany shook her head slightly at her reflection. Maybe Puck was trying to get in some community service or whatever. He’d definitely come crawling back to her and she’d make him beg until he realised that he’d made the biggest mistake of his fucking life by not choosing her.

What had Rachel told her? Oh, right. She’d said that it didn’t matter what Puck did because she was Brittany Pierce and to see her fighting over _Puck_ would only hurt her reputation.

She saw Rachel’s logic, but it was about pride for her. She didn’t care about Puck. God, she barely even liked him. But he was okay in bed and he was the perfect arm candy. Yeah, she had potential replacements, but who the hell did they think they were to make her out to look like a fool? Because that is definitely what she looked like to the entire school. Puck had dumped her for Quinn. It didn’t matter that _she’d_ been the one to do the public dumping – she was currently playthingless and Puck was hanging off Queen Quinn’s arm.

Ugh.

When did her life turn into the biggest suckfest since Twilight?

The final bell rang and Brittany checked her makeup, even though it was flawless, and walked out of the bathroom. She’d skipped out on the last ten minutes of whatever class she’d been in before because Rachel had cut the entire day. It wasn’t unusual, but they normally cut together and Brittany could actually have really used a spa day after the shit that had gone down that morning.

The smug look on Santana’s face came back to play over in her mind as Brittany walked towards the choir room. Her eyes narrowed and her temper started to spike. Since Rachel had gone gaga over the school loser, Santana had somehow got it into her head that she could challenge Brittany. She scoffed. As if. She’d cut that bitch down to size without a second thought, regardless of whether she was sleeping with her best friend.

That in itself was something that Brittany didn’t understand. Rachel could pretty much have any girl she wanted so _what_ in the hell made Santana Lopez so irresistible? Their little romance was seriously throwing the balance out of whack at McKinley. Brittany wouldn’t be surprised if the gleeks started trying to have lunch at the Cheerios table.

Brittany rolled her eyes as she neared the doorway to hell. Over her dead fucking body would that-

Jesus Christ. _Again_? _This is becoming a very uncomfortable habit_.

Rachel was straddling Santana on the piano chair. Santana’s hands were invisible under Rachel’s skirt and, as Brittany momentarily glimpsed (she was _not_ staring), they were actually underneath the spankies too. Santana’s shirt was hiked up mid-waist and Rachel’s hands were roaming across the bare skin. Santana did have really smooth-looking skin…

 _Jesus. What the fuck is_ wrong _with you?_

“Once wasn’t enough?” Brittany said dryly, walking into the room. “You feel like you have to give me a show every time you guys wanna get it on?”

The two broke apart and Rachel looked very flushed. Santana rolled her eyes and continued kissing Rachel’s neck, but her hands had moved and were resting on Rachel’s thighs.

“Hey, B,” Rachel said, her breaths quick. “Santana, quit it.”

Brittany smirked as her friend slapped Santana’s hands from running along her legs. Santana sighed visibly and simply stood up, Rachel still in her arms. Rachel squealed and giggled, wrapping her legs around Santana’s waist.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Brittany muttered.

“Someone’s jealous,” Santana chided, walking up to the top row of chairs and sitting down, settling Rachel back into her lap.

“Lopez, don’t push me today,” Brittany replied through gritted teeth. The animosity she’d felt towards Santana was making a comeback.

“Afraid you’ll fall over?” Santana retorted. “No big strong meathead to catch you?”

Brittany stood up and Rachel jumped off Santana’s lap to put herself between the two.

“You wanna go through this again, Rach?” Brittany seethed. “You’re gonna pick her _again_?”

Santana chuckled and folded her arms across her chest.

“Santana,” Rachel said warningly.

Santana held up her hands and kept quiet.

“B, relax. I thought we dealt with this already.”

“The fuck we did. Maybe I missed the explanation about why my best friend is picking some weirdo slut over her best friend.”

Santana was on her feet in a flash and millimetres away from Brittany’s face before Rachel could even react.

“That’s fucking rich coming from you. Listen, Wonder Barbie, and listen well. Jealousy is very unbecoming on you. I would suggest that you get some and get it fast because you just become more of a snobbish bitch during a dry spell. Rachel’s got herself a piece of hot ass and that’s ruffling your feathers a bit. Well, you know what? Get the fuck over yourself. The world, and yes, it is bigger than this school, doesn’t give a shit about your petty high school dramas. You lost your plaything. So what? Get underneath another meathead and just leave the rest of us alone because in _this_ room, you don’t matter.”

Brittany blinked and saw red. Before she could stop herself, she pushed Santana backwards. Somehow, she managed to regain her balance really quickly and smirked at Brittany.

“That was a _very_ big mistake, Wonder Barbie. Hope Coach Em has a good plastic surgeon on speed dial.”

“Stop it!” Rachel shouted, grabbing Santana’s arm and pulling her away.

“Rachel, I would advise you to hold my glasses and back the fuck off or end up next to Miss Prissy here in a hospital bed.”

“Santana, please,’ Rachel begged.

“Fine,” Santana said simply, pushing Rachel off her and sending her tumbling into the stacks of chairs.

She raised an eyebrow at Brittany, who clenched her fists.

“Oh, I have been waiting a year to do this,” Santana taunted, beckoning the blonde closer with two fingers.

“Rachel give you some of her berry juice or something that made you suddenly grow a spine then?” Brittany asked, stepping forward.

Santana’s eyes narrowed. “I was fine with you picking on me. I can take that. But you don’t call me untrue names and start shit with my friends.”

“Pot calling kettle black much?” Brittany snapped, circling Santana on the choir room floor. “You claim to be a martyr for these rejects, but really all you want is for people to notice you in the hallways. You want exactly what we have. Who’s the one that’s jealous now?”

Santana scowled and dove at Brittany, tackling her around her stomach. Rachel screamed as the two tumbled to the floor. Brittany jarred her elbow painfully but managed not to hit her head. She tried pushing the psycho bitch off her, but Santana had her pinned and started to punch her stomach with short, sharp punches. Brittany wheezed at the pain and gritted her teeth. She clenched her fist and swung up, connecting Santana’s jaw. Santana grunted at the hit, but it didn’t seem to deter her much. Brittany could vaguely hear Rachel shouting at them to stop, but she wasn’t about to let Santana Lopez make a fool out of her. Again.

She pushed her hips up and managed to get a bit of leverage and rolled Santana off her. She pounced on top and wrestled with the feisty girl on the floor. She managed to get a punch to Brittany’s cheek and she recoiled instinctively, giving Santana the chance to push her back with her feet in Brittany’s stomach. She slid across the floor and hit the leg of the piano hard. She scowled and stood up. Santana did the same and Brittany tackled her around the waist similar to how she’d been tackled. They flew into piles of stacked chairs against the wall and toppled them all over. Brittany felt herself flipping over as she lost her grip on Santana and her arms and legs connected with different parts of different chairs. She grunted and tried to stand up, but she was tangled in about five different chairs. A quick glance to her left saw that Santana was in the same predicament.

Not a fuck was she letting some chairs stop her from kicking Santana’s ass. She kicked out at the obstacles and eventually managed to stand up by leaning heavily on the plastic. Her stomach was killing her and her face hurt like a motherfucker.

“Get up,” she rasped.

“So eager for me to kick your ass again, Wonder Barbie,” Santana retorted, wincing as she got to her feet.

“You wish,” Brittany spat, slapping her open palmed through the face.

Santana’s head snapped back and her eyes narrowed. Brittany smirked at the red mark forming on the side of her face.

“Big mistake,” Santana said in a low voice, punching Brittany in the stomach.

Brittany doubled over and Santana took the opportunity to tackle her to the floor. The struggled with each other until a loud voice echoed through the room.

“Pierce! What in the hell are you doing?”

“Santana!”

Both girls stopped, recognising the voices immediately. Santana was still on top of Brittany and they both looked at the doorway. Miss Sylvester and Coach Em were both standing there. Half the student body was crowding around the two doors.

“My office. Now,” Coach Em barked, spinning on her heel and walking through the path that magically opened for her.

“Santana, I can’t protect you from this,” Miss Sylvester said with a disappointed look on her face. “Although I did expect better from you.”

“Whatever,” Brittany heard her huff under her breath as she got off her.

Brittany slowly got up and winced at the pain in her stomach again.

“Have a good show, you mindless drones?” Santana snapped at the students watching them. “I feel like I’m in the Colosseum.”

“Well, you’re certainly acting like a savage.”

Santana looked visibly regretful as Quinn walked up, her arms folded across her chest.

“I can’t actually believe you, Santana,” she said, shaking her head. “I ask you not to talk to Puck, and you do. Now you start a fight-“

“I didn’t start it!” Santana immediately protested.

“Did you discourage it?” Quinn snapped back. “No! God, I swear, for someone as clever as you, you have rocks for brain cells.”

She turned around and pushed her way through the crowd.

“Shit,” Brittany heard Santana breathe. “Quinn, wait!”

She started in the direction that the diva had gone, but Miss Sylvester gripped her arm firmly.

“Unfortunately, you’re coming with me to Principal Schuester,” she said solemnly.

“I hope that I’m not going to be the only one in that office,” Santana snapped, wrenching her arm away. “Because that would just be typical of how messed up this high school hierarchy bullshit is.”

“Santana,” Miss Sylvester warned.

“No, you know what? This is absolute bullcrap. I’m so _sick_ of certain people walking these halls like they own they place just because they can catch a ball or jump really high. It’s ridiculous! I’m done. I’m done.” Santana held up her hands and stepped back. “Principal Schue can do what he wants. I’ll take it. But the mentality of the students in this school is _embarrassing_. Grow a pair. All of you!” She shouted the last part at the faces peering in through the doorways. “This is blatant bullying, do you even realise that? Do any of you even care? I thought that modern society had risen above petty classes, but I guess we’re all still stuck in the stone age.”

“Says the girl who just got into a fight with the head cheerleader,” Mercedes snapped.

Santana narrowed her eyes. “Great. I see how it is.” She turned around and stalked to her bag, slinging it onto her shoulder. “Nice bunch of friends I supposedly have. Have a fucking good day.”

Brittany stared open-mouthed at Santana, who pushed her way through the crowd. Miss Sylvester didn’t even try to stop her. She took a deep breath and winced again. Crap. Coach Em was going to kill her. She’d be lucky to keep her Cheerios uniform after this.

She turned and walked towards the door, the crowd parting automatically. She could hear the whispers, but kept her head high and tried not to show how much pain she was actually in.

* * *

Santana hurt everywhere. Physically and emotionally. She couldn’t believe how things had turned out. She knew that she should never have got into that fight, but she was honestly flabbergasted at how everyone had turned on her. Even Quinn and Mercedes. The entire situation was just completely absurd.

She got to her car and leaned against it. Everything had come to a boiling point. She knew that she’d snapped and yes, maybe she’d asked for the abuse, but why did everyone think that it was okay to keep dishing it out? She stood by what she’d said in the choir room. In hindsight, she was partly to blame for perpetuating the problem by encouraging the dimwits at the top of the food chain to continue picking on her, but was the alternative really any better? She’d honestly thought she was helping her friends. Well, her so-called friends. Brittany hadn’t been wrong. She was a martyr. She wasn’t so proud that she couldn’t admit it. But she definitely didn’t want to be popular or any of that shit.

“Santana!”

She groaned. This was absolutely the last thing she needed.

“Wait! Just hang on a second!”

 _Like that’s going to happen_.

Santana unlocked her car and climbed in, ignoring the shooting pains in her stomach. She started the car, but the passenger door was flung open and Rachel quickly climbed in.

“I _really_ don’t think you understand the gravity of how much I do _not_ want to see you right now,” Santana snapped, glaring at her.

“Tough shit,” Rachel replied simply, looking over Santana’s face. “Life’s full of disappointments.”

“Tell me about it,” Santana said snippily, raising an eyebrow at Rachel.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just as much of a bitch as you. You can try that shit all you want, but you should know by now that I don’t give so easily.”

“Actually, you do,” Santana said thoughtfully.

Rachel chuckled. “Trust you to have a one-track mind when you’re this close to being suspended.”  
Santana shrugged. “I know things got a little out of hand, but I know for a fact that nothing is going to happen to Brittany and I’m so _sick_ of that blatant favouritism. I’m sorry, Rachel, I know she’s your best friend, but I’m not going to apologising for being the only one to stand up for what’s right. The cheerleaders and jocks at this school are bullies and damned if I’m going to just sit back and take it anymore.”

Santana was breathing heavily by the time she was finished, her eyes fixed sharply on the car parked in front of her in the lot.

“Santana, you’re not wrong,’ Rachel said softly.

“That’s just a nice way of saying that I’m not right,” Santana cut in quietly. “Look, you’re part of _that_ crowd. Whatever we had was fun, but you have your allegiances. I don’t hold it against you or anything.”

Rachel frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re being nice and it’s sweet, but I know how the world works. I think the entire school just saw how the world works. Well, in high school anyway.”

“Santana, you’re doing that thing again,” Rachel murmured, her brow furrowing.

“What thing?”

“Where you’re talking about something that only you understand. I’m not in that brilliant head of yours, remember? You need to explain things.”

Santana swivelled in her seat to face Rachel and unwittingly winced as the pain shot up again.

“Are you hurt?” Rachel asked in alarm.

“Were you seriously asleep in there?” Santana replied dryly.

“Let me see.”

Santana rolled her eyes and lifted her shirt. She glanced down and saw several colourful bruises across her ribs. Her skin tone generally hid things like bruises and blushes, but she’d hit those chairs pretty hard and she had to admit that Wonder Barbie could pack a punch.

“Jesus,” Rachel whispered, running her fingers gently across Santana’s stomach. “Santana, you need to go to hospital or something.”

Santana scoffed and dropped her shirt. “Yeah, right. First off, I’m not a wuss. The only time I’ve ever been to a hospital is when I had my tonsils out. Second, my mom would kill me. Third, even though my mom’s going to kill me, I’ve got bandages and stuff at home.”

Rachel was quiet and Santana saw her wringing her hands. Her eyes widened when she saw a large bruise forming on Rachel’s upper arm.

“God, please don’t tell me that was me,” she said in horror.

Rachel shuffled so that the bruise was out view. “It’s fine,” she mumbled.

“Rachel, no! It’s not fine! Not in the least! Shit, I never…I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t,” Rachel replied. “Which is why it’s okay. You were mad. I’ve said and done things that I regret when I’m mad. That’s human nature.”

“You should go,” Santana said quietly.

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes, why?”

“Um, because I’m me and you’re you?” Santana replied with a frown.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “This is me going back to what I said about me not being in your head. Explain in simple English what you mean. Please,” she added.

“I thought you liked how I spoke,” Santana said quietly, letting a small smile cross her face.

_Ugh. Rachel Berry has turned you to mush. It’s embarrassing._

“I do,” Rachel replied. “But when you need to tell me something important, colouring it up with fancy words often just makes it harder to understand. And you need people to understand the important stuff, Santana.”

Santana took a deep breath. “In war, everyone takes sides. And your side isn’t with me.”

“Says who?”

Rachel blinked in surprise and stared at Rachel.

“What?”

“Who says that my side isn’t with you?”

“Because you’re a cheerleader,” Santana blurted, indicating her outfit.

Rachel smiled and shook her head. “You are a mess of contradictions, do you know that?”

“Oh, really?” Santana arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, _really_. You preach about how unfair the social hierarchy system is and how we should all be equal blah, blah. But you’ve just told me that I shouldn’t be with you because of that same social hierarchy. Isn’t that kind of defeating the purpose of everything you said back there?”

Santana rested her head against the chair. Was she just as bad as everyone in there? She didn’t practise anything she was preaching.

_God, I’m a fucking hypocrite!_

“Look,” Rachel said quietly. “Seeing as how you’re so set on things changing, why not start with me? I mean, we’ve already caused quite a stir at school.”

Santana glanced at her. “What exactly are you proposing?”

Rachel shrugged. “Nothing apart from what we have been doing, really.”

“Oh, so cutting school, getting into fights, those kinds of things?” Santana teased.

Rachel grinned. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of dating?”

Santana’s smile dropped a little. “Dating? You and me?”

“You didn’t think we’d get this far, did you?”

“Honestly, no. I thought you’d get irritated with me or I’d get pissed off with you or something and that would be it. I guess I thought we’d be more of a fleeting thing.”

“And now?” Rachel asked softly.

Santana cocked her head. “Honestly, I half expected you to abandon me for your former glory days pre-slushie.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Santana.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “Could you really see yourself dating me? Like in the long run? I mean, like longer than two months, say?”

Rachel nodded. “I know for a fact that our relationship will definitely be interesting and we’ll probably fight and bitch at each other half the time-“

“And probably end up having sex the other half,” Santana interrupted, chuckling.

“Exactly,” Rachel said with a smile. “So, what do you say, Lopez? You think you can handle all of me for an as yet unidentified length of time?”

Santana grinned. “You know what, Cherry Berry?” she asked, leaning closer. “I think I could manage that.”

“Awesome,” Rachel whispered, closing the distance between them.

* * *

Brittany’s face was seriously sore. Like seriously fucking sore. Like she’d been smashed with a brick sore. Coach Em had been ranting for about twenty minutes now and she had tuned her out roughly two minutes into said rant.

“Pierce!”

Brittany snapped to attention.

“Did you understand what I was saying?” Coach Em snapped, her wide eyes narrowed in anger.

“Totally,” Brittany replied automatically.

_Shit! Why did I say that? Do I have a concussion or something? Coach Em is gonna kill me!_

“Brittany, I think you need to go and see the nurse,” Coach Em said quietly.

“I’m fine, Coach,” Brittany replied, trying to sound as serious as she could.

“See, normally I’d believe you, but you’ve been staring at that picture of me on my desk as opposed to actually looking at me.”

Brittany blinked and squinted, but it really made her head hurt.

_Crap. She’s right._

“Uh, sorry, Coach,” Brittany said, shifting her focus to the standing, _real_ , version of Coach Em. “I’m honestly fine.”

“Nice try, Pierce. But you’re going to Nurse Beiste _now_. We’ll decide on your fate at a later date.”

Brittany had to try really hard not to laugh at Coach Em’s unintentional rhyming.

“Coach Em!”

Brittany turned around quickly and immediately regretted the action as her head started spinning and aching.

“Rachel,” Coach Em said suspiciously. “Come to save your bestie’s skin?”

“Um, sort of,” Rachel replied, glancing at Brittany, who just waved.

“Well, first order of business is to get her to the nurse’s office pronto and then we can talk.”

Rachel nodded and put an arm around Brittany.

“Hi, Rach,” she said brightly. “I totally kicked her ass, didn’t I?”

“Uh, sure, B,” Rachel mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m badass,” Brittany said proudly. “I feel like dancing now.”

“Uh, no. I think we need to get you to the nurse,” Rachel chuckled. “You hit your head pretty hard.”

“My head is pretty,” Brittany replied, leaning heavily on Rachel as everything seemed very dizzy around her. “Whoa.”

“Sure, B.”

“You think I’m pretty, right, Rach?”

“Um, totally, B. You’re a hot bitch.”

“Yeah, I am,” Brittany confirmed with a grin. “Where are we going?”

“To the nurse. You hit your head.”

“But I won, right?”

“Um…”

“Rach, I totally kicked her ass! You saw it!”

“Oh, look, here we are!” Rachel said.

“Hi, Nurse Beiste!” Brittany said, waving. “This is my best friend, Rachel. She’s gonna take care of me.”

“Actually, you wouldn’t mind doing that, would you?” Rachel said quickly, ducking under Brittany’s arm and pushing her gently towards the monstrous Nurse Beiste. “I’ve got some damage control to do.”

Brittany rested her head on Nurse Beiste’s shoulder. “You should be a football coach. You’re like, bigger than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“Hit your head, did you?” Nurse Beiste asked with humour in her voice.

“I got into a fight,” Brittany said proudly, taking up a boxer’s stance. “Totally kicked her ass too.”

“So why are you the only one here?” Nurse Beiste teased.

Brittany opened her mouth, but then Nurse Beiste’s words filtrated her brain. “Shit! She won, didn’t she?”

* * *

“Let’s have it, Berry,” Coach Em said with a bored expression.

“You know why Brittany wanted to join the Glee Club, right?” Rachel started.

“Something about a boy. I don’t concern myself with such unimportant things.”

“What, boys?” Rachel couldn’t help asking with a smirk.

Coach Em sat up and eyed her second-in-command.

“Someone has your spankies in a bunch,” she remarked. “And not in the potential wedgie type of way.”

Rachel blushed and grinned. “Well, now that you mention it, that’s also why I’m here.”

“Hold it,” Coach Em said suddenly.

Rachel’s smile fell from her face.

“Are you and that weird four-eyed weirdo getting it on?”

“Actually, no,” Rachel admitted. “But we are together.”

“Crap, Berry! Are you deliberately trying to single-handedly derail everything I’ve worked for?”

“Coach Em, you’re looking at this is as a bad thing, when it could be a very, very good thing.”

“I’m just _dying_ to hear this little slice of genius,” Coach Em said dryly.

“Yes, Santana and I are dating, and yes, she and Brittany did get into a fight-“

“Please tell me it wasn’t over you,” Coach Em interrupted, holding up a hand. “I mean, every human being in a five-hundred-mile radius from here knows that you’re a muff diver, but I never expected Pierce to swing that way.”

“Oh, no, she doesn’t,” Rachel replied. “No, the fight was actually because they’re both incredibly stubborn and pig-headed-“

“That means the same thing, moron.”

“Uh, right. Anyway, I have it on good authority that there might be a revolt soon.”

“Against whom?” Coach Em said in horror.

“The top dogs.”

“No!”

“I think it’s started. You know I got slushied on Friday, right?”

“Scandal!”

Rachel grinned inwardly. _This is working like a charm_. Of course, Coach Em didn’t need to know the _real_ reason why she’d been slushied.

“What do you propose?”

“Well, I think that the best thing right now is to convince Schue that Santana doesn’t get suspended because she’s like the ringleader of the students who want things to change.”

“And you’re sleeping with her?” Coach Em asked, wrinkling her nose. “Sounds to me like I need to question your loyalties here, Berry.”

Rachel knew how Coach Em’s mind worked so she had a rebuttal prepared. “If I was against you, I’d sit back and let everyone get slushied. And by everyone, I mean teachers too. I reckon you might be one of the first.”

Coach Em’s eyes went wide and she started pulling her gloves on tighter.

“Coach, here’s the deal. Brittany needs to play nice. All the Cheerios need to play nice. No more slushies. No more dumpster tosses. We may be the top dogs here, but they have numbers.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right. There are far too many losers at this damn school.”

Rachel remained quiet as her coach went over all the possibilities, but she knew she’d nailed it with the teachers getting slushied comment.

“Fine. I’ll talk to Schue. You talk to Brittany. And Rachel, you keep your ear to the ground and let me know the second this rebellion dissipates.”

“Will do, Coach. But I wouldn’t hold my breath. These guys are pissed. I mean, they slushied _me_.”

Coach Em breathed sharply. “You’re right. Dammit! I blame that Sylvester woman! Such backward thinking, telling kids that they should dream big. I’m realistic. I tell these kids that they’re too fat or too stupid or too ugly. It’s real life!”

“Totally,” Rachel murmured, nodding outwardly but inwardly she was cringing.

“Out, Berry. Consider this a conversation that never took place.”

”Understood,” Rachel said, standing up brusquely and walking out.

It wasn’t till she was at her locker that she pulled out her phone and texted Santana.

_You owe me SO big. I’ll be collecting very soon._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

Brittany was laying on her bed, her hand covering her eyes as Rachel gently restrapped her ribs. She’d cracked two ribs. Well, Santana had cracked two ribs. _Two ribs_! If Brittany hadn’t been strictly told to stay in bed, she’d be all up in that loser’s face and show her some Fierce Pierce.

“How does that feel?” Rachel asked.

“Hmmmff,” Brittany muttered.

“Yeah, I don’t speak concussed cheerleader,” Rachel snipped back with a smile.

“It’s fine, Rach,” Brittany mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Okay, so you have your pain meds – no excessive partying now – and I’ll come by tomorrow morning to check on you.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Brittany asked, lifting her arm and frowning at her best friend. “I’m in pain here. You’re supposed to be taking care of me.”

Rachel sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I guess we were going to have to have this talk eventually.”

“What?” Brittany asked warily, pretty sure she already hated anything that Rachel was going to say next.

“I spoke with Coach Em and you’re still on the squad,” Rachel began, “but there’s a condition.”

“Ugh.” Brittany let her arm drop over her eyes again.

“You have to be nice to Santana.”

“ _What_?” Brittany shouted, sitting up too quickly and wincing in pain.

“Easy, B,” Rachel said gently. “All the Cheerios and the jocks are going to stop with the slushies and dumpster tosses.”

“What the hell kind of twisted story did you spin Coach Em to get her to agree to this?” Brittany spat.

“Look, Santana’s little speech in the choir room ruffled a few feathers and I wouldn’t be surprised if the underclassmen start revolting against us. I took a pre-emptive counter strike.”

“My, how chivalrous of you,” Brittany said dryly. “And, of course, this would have _nothing_ whatsoever to do with your inexplicable desire to get into Santana Lopez’s pants.”

Rachel flushed slightly. “Look, Britt. You and Santana were both equally responsible for that fight. It wouldn’t be fair if she’d been suspended and nothing happened to you.”

“Uh, hello? Has she melted your brain? There’s a reason why we’re at the top of the ladder. Shit like that doesn’t happen to us.”

“Well, maybe it’s time things changed,” Rachel said quietly, looking down at her nails.

Brittany’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry, I may still be suffering the concussion that your psycho bitch weirdo gave me, but are your allegiances wavering, Berry?”

Rachel looked up, her eyes flashing. She stood. “Santana is my girlfriend, Brittany. Don’t speak about her like that. And no, I haven’t switched allegiances. I’m just a little more open-minded. You should try it sometime because if you don’t, you can guarantee that Coach Em will strip you of that uniform faster than you can say Head Cheerio.”

“I don’t believe this is happening,” Brittany muttered, lying back down.

“Look, you have two days of compulsory bed rest to consider your options,” Rachel replied, picking up her bag. “I’ll be by in the morning.”

“Where are you going?” Brittany asked. “You never answered me before.”

Rachel looked up. “Well, because I’m still your friend, no matter what you may believe, I’ll tell you that Santana is pretty banged up too. So, I’m going to take care of her.”

Brittany allowed a smirk to cross her face. She held Rachel’s gaze for a few moments before sighing. “Fine, I’ll play nice. But I’m not making any promises. You’d better advise your _girlfriend_ that any antagonising might be detrimental to her health.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Don’t be petty, Britt. Your pride is wounded because the school weirdo kicked your ass. Get over it. Play nice or lose your status. The choice is pretty simple, actually.”

Brittany’s eyes went wide. “You’d make a very good politician,” she mumbled. “Now go away. I want to sleep and forget this day ever happened.”

Rachel chuckled. “Hey, maybe one day you’ll thank me for this.”

“Highly doubt that,” Brittany replied, turning onto her side with great effort.

“Night, Brittany,” Rachel sang as she walked out.

“Hmmmff,” she mumbled, closing her eyes and letting the fatigue that had been plaguing her all day finally take over.

_Friends with Santana Lopez. Yeah, right. When pigs fly._

* * *

“ _Mami, estoy bien_!” Santana said in exasperation. “Just, I don’t know, go and cook something.”

Carmen frowned at her stubborn daughter. “ _Mija_ , this swelling needs to come down. Now either I do it or I get your brothers to come in and do it.”

Santana’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“ _Pruébame_ ,” Carmen challenged, the familiar testing look flashing in her eyes.

Santana groaned. “Can’t you just pull a Mary Poppins and grab some medicine that’ll make me all better?”

Carmen chuckled and placed the ice pack against her daughter’s bruised cheek. “Santana, that mind of yours is golden.”

Santana smiled. “ _Gracias, mami_.”

Her mother tucked her hair behind her ear and wrinkled her nose affectionately. “ _No necesitas fingir que eres fuertedelante de mi_ ,” she said softly.

“I don’t pretend, Mama,” Santana sighed. “It’s just become like second nature because of school.”

Carmen’s eyes narrowed at that.

“Mama, things are changing,” Santana said quickly. “I’m not going to be slushied anymore.”

“No, now you get into fights,” Carmen replied, raising an eyebrow in the exact same manner as her daughter.

Santana smiled sheepishly. “I don’t mind people calling me stupid names, but I’m not a slut,” she said quietly.

“I chewed her out for that,” a voice said at the door.

Carmen turned around and Santana leaned past her mother to see Rachel leaning against the doorframe.

“ _Esa una falda muy corta_ ,” Carmen commented.

“ _Mami_ ,” Santana chastised, although it _was_ very short. Her mother didn’t need to know how much she liked that short skirt, though. “Hey,” she said to Rachel.

“Hey,” Rachel replied, smiling. “Miguel let me in. How are you?”

“She’d be a lot better if she’d let me help her,” Carmen said, putting the ice pack back against Santana’s cheek.

“I don’t mind doing that,” Rachel said quietly and Santana had to smile at her shyness. Rachel Berry, _shy_? She bet Rachel had never actually done the whole meet the parents thing either.

“Excellent,” Carmen said, happy to pass on the task. She handed the ice pack to Santana and stood up. “And you’re staying for dinner.”

“Oh, no, that’s-“

“She’s not asking, Rach,” Santana interrupted quietly.

“Oh.” Rachel looked at Santana questioningly. “Um, then sure! I’d love to stay. Just let me know if you need any help with anything?”

“Make sure she doesn’t break any other bones,” Carmen stated before walking out.

“What?” Rachel asked, walking quickly to the bed and sitting down. “What did you break?”

Santana chuckled before wincing slightly. She held a hand gingerly to her ribs. “Nothing’s broken. My mom just likes to exaggerate. I did crack a few ribs, I think.”  
”And then there’s this,” Rachel said, taking the ice pack from Santana and holding it gently to her cheek.

Santana just looked at Rachel’s face as her eyes took in Santana’s face, checking for any other marks from her fight. She had a little scratch on her chin from Brittany’s nail when she punched her. That didn’t hurt as much as the one on her cheek and the bruising was significantly less too.

Their eyes met and Rachel smiled. “I know you’re in pain, but how are you otherwise?”

Santana breathed in slowly, careful not to move too much. She’d cracked ribs before so she knew how it felt.

“I’m okay,” she said eventually. “Gymnastics always resulted in me having some kind of injury so this really is just more stuff I’m used to.”

“Gymnastics, huh?” Rachel said with a smirk. “Fellow gymnasts give you black eyes?”

Santana smiled. “Nope. But try mistiming your spin on the parallel bars and hitting your face instead.”

Rachel winced. “Ouch. Sorry I asked.”

Santana chuckled, then hissed in pain.

“Don’t laugh, you idiot!” Rachel said sternly, furrowing her brows.

“Rach, it’s fine. I’ve had cracked ribs before. I’ll be good to go in about three weeks.”

“Wait.” Rachel’s face dropped. “Does that mean…?”

“Oh…um, yeah. Sorry,” Santana said apologetically. “We can build the anticipation?”

Rachel sighed. “It’s fine. I’m glad it’s nothing more serious than a few cracked ribs.”

Santana smiled as Rachel readjusted the ice pack. “You’re totally playing nurse to me right now. If I weren’t incapacitated, I might make use of that role.”

Santana watched as Rachel flushed and felt her hand tighten around the ice pack.

“Jesus, Santana,” she mumbled. “If I can’t have you for three weeks then you can’t tease me like that. It’s not fair.”

”Ah, poor baby,” Santana teased, grabbing her free hand and kissing the back of it. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Rachel smiled and leaned forward, meeting Santana’s lips gently. Santana cupped her cheek and traced her tongue along Rachel’s bottom lip, immediately being granted the entrance she’d requested. Their tongues rolled lazily together and Rachel ended up straddling her, paying careful attention to stay away from her stomach.

“Just so you know, this isn’t teasing,” Santana breathed, letting her lips trail down Rachel’s cheek to her neck.

“No, of course not,” Rachel replied with a smile. “This is just making out, right? No pressure to do anything else.”

“Hmmm,” Santana replied, fusing their lips again.

Rachel moaned softly as Santana’s hands found their way underneath the red spankies that she loved so much. Santana’s fingers gently massaged the soft, smooth skin and pulled away suddenly, breathing hard.

“Did I hurt you?” Rachel asked quickly, sitting up.

“No,” Santana said with a groan. “But _my_ resolve is going to last very long, so we’d better stop now.”

Rachel pouted, but slid off Santana’s body and picked up the ice pack that had been discarded on the bed in favour of their very hot make out session. She sighed as she studied the bruise before placing the ice pack over it.

“Brittany’s got a concussion and two cracked ribs,” she said quietly.

Santana froze momentarily and met Rachel’s gaze. “What happened? With Coach Pillsbury?”

“Oh, well, I managed to keep her as Head Cheerio, even though she’ll be out of commission for a month. There’s no way Coach Em will let her train with a concussion. As much of a psychotic tyrant as she is, when it comes to serious injuries, she makes sure we get the best care.”

“Brittany can’t be too happy about that,” Santana commented.

Rachel shrugged. “She doesn’t really have a choice. I saved her uniform.”

“What exactly were these terms?” Santana asked carefully.

She shifted, looking uncomfortable.

“Rachel.”

“Okay, but hear me out,” Rachel said quickly. “No getting mad.”

“Jesus,” Santana hissed.

“First off, you’re in the clear. No suspension, nothing on your record.”

“Seriously?”

Rachel nodded and Santana smiled, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely as Rachel flushed slightly.

“It was nothing,” she mumbled and cleared her throat. “I told Coach Em that the ‘losers’,” she used air quotes, “were going to revolt and that they had their sights set on the jocks, cheerleaders and teachers.”

‘Rachel!” Santana said in alarm. “They would never do that!”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not they will. The point is that Coach Em _believes_ that they will. I may also have mentioned that they were behind my slushie experience on Friday.”

“But that’s a lie,” Santana said with a frown. “I don’t want things to change because of a lie, Rachel. That’s kinda pointless.”

“I get that you’re apprehensive, but hear me out, okay?” Rachel asked.

Santana nodded and Rachel shifted closer to her on the bed, careful not to press the ice pack too hard against her cheek.

“Okay, so yes, I did tell a little white lie, but Coach Em bought the entire thing. She went to Schue to make sure that you didn’t get suspended and I kept Britt on the Cheerios.”

“By doing what exactly?” Santana asked, picking up immediately that Rachel purposefully skipped that part.

Rachel took a deep breath. “The Cheerios and jocks are not allowed to slushie or dumpster toss anyone anymore. And Brittany has to play nice with you.”

“I’m sorry?” Santana was pretty sure she’d heard wrong.

“No more slushie facials or dumpster tosses,” Rachel repeated.

“And me and Wonder Barbie have to play nice,” Santana added.

“Yeah,” Rachel said slowly.

Santana sighed. No slushies or dumpster tosses – that was gold. But being nice to the blonde bitch from hell? That was going to be a tall order.

“Santana, please?” Rachel asked, her eyes pleading. “I did this so for you. Promise me you’ll try and put all this shit with Brittany behind you?”

Santana’s brows furrowed. “I’m lying here with cracked ribs and a shiner the size of Mount Doom and you’re asking me to put this _behind_ me?”

Rachel looked down, her confidence faltering. “Look, I don’t know how you’re feeling about everything because you haven’t really told me, which is okay cos this whole relationship stuff is still new, but Brittany’s going to give it a try, so-“

“Wait, what?” Santana interrupted.

“Brittany’s on board,” Rachel said. “She knows that I saved her Cheerios career and she knows that you’re my girlfriend so she’s agreed to try.”

Santana blinked, a few different things running through her head. One, Rachel had called Santana her girlfriend, which kinda made her heart do a little flutter. Second, Brittany had already agreed to this, which meant that she would have to be a real ass to not at least try. Third, and she wasn’t sure why it had actually taken her so long to realise this, but Rachel had gone through all of this for _her_. It made her chest flutter again.

Santana grabbed the back of Rachel’s neck and pulled her down, kissing her hard.

“W-What was that for?” Rachel asked a little breathlessly when they pulled apart slightly.

“Because you’re amazing,” Santana said sincerely, smiling. “I think you can consider Operation Santana a resounding success.”

Rachel grinned widely before leaning down to gently kiss her cheek.

“I told you that I wanted things to be different with you,” she said softly.

Santana nodded. “You’ve got me convinced. But I should warn you that there are four big, strapping Latino men who will break your sexy little body into a gazillion pieces if you hurt me.” She pecked Rachel’s stunned lips quickly. “Just so you know,” she added with a wink.

“Oh, dear God,” Rachel whispered.

“Relax, Rach. I was teasing. A little. Maybe.”

“Shut up,” Rachel said, kissing her again.

They broke apart, much to Santana’s disappointment and she showed it, folding her arms across her chest and pouting.

Rachel giggled. “Very cute. How’s the strapping?”

“Strapping?”

“You told me you were going to strap you stomach,” Rachel accused with a frown.

“Oh, yeah, well…my mom kinda just…”

“No matter,” Rachel replied, standing up and walking over to the open first aid kit on Santana’s dresser. “Shirt off. I’ll do it before dinner.”

“You enjoy getting me out of my shirt, don’t you?” Santana teased.

Rachel turned her head and smirked. “Yeah, because you make it _so_ difficult.”

Santana smiled. She may hurt a lot, but things were looking up.

* * *

The week passed without major incident. Both Brittany and Santana stayed at home for the full week as their bodies recovered from the fight that had circulated the school about fifty times, becoming more outlandish with each retelling. As things stood, Brittany had a cracked skull, three broken fingers and had to have emergency reconstructive surgery to ensure that her face stayed the same. Santana, the resident badass, was rumoured to have a broken cheekbone, _four_ broken fingers and five broken ribs.

Rachel walked through the halls on Friday after lunch and shook her head as she picked up snippets here and there. High school really was like a gossip rag – she would know, she’d graced the front cover many times.

The only piece of news rivalling the fight was the as yet unconfirmed rumour of Rachel and Santana becoming an official item. Rachel remained tight-lipped and when she told Santana, she’d laughed heartily before doubling over in pain.

Rachel had gone over to Santana’s house every evening to spend time with her, give her the schoolwork she’d missed for that day, and help her restrap her stomach and do a few breathing exercises to help speed up the healing process. The mornings she spent with Brittany, always waking her. She was not happy that she’d gotten the morning shift but, true to her word, she hadn’t said anything mean about Santana. Rachel wasn’t holding her breath though. The true test would be on Monday, when they were both back at school.

Rachel spotted the person that she had been searching all day for and made a beeline for her.

“Hi, Quinn,” she said brightly.

Quinn turned from her locker and raised an eyebrow. “Rachel,” she replied monotonously.

“How have you been?” Rachel pressed, determined to fix this for Santana. She had confessed how regretful she was about going against her best friend’s wishes.

“Smashing,” Quinn retorted, slamming her locker shut. She kept her voice low. “Morning sickness has really perked up my life.”

Rachel wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to respond to that. “Uh, Santana said to tell you that she misses you.” Okay, she _had_ told Rachel that she missed Quinn, but had then threatened her with a hiatus of kisses if she ever told her. Rachel was confident that she’d still be getting her hot lady kisses and Santana would make up with her best friend.

“How sweet,” Quinn replied, her voice holding nothing but contempt. “Somehow I can’t seem to find it very genuine coming from you.”

Rachel frowned. “Quinn, you may not like me, but I’ve been there for Santana when you ran off. She hates how she went behind your back, but she was just trying to make sure that you’d be treated right.”

Quinn was quiet, but her eyes were flashing with an emotion that Rachel wasn’t very familiar with.

“Her mom and I had to pretty much tie her to the bed to stop her from going to see you,” Rachel continued.

“I bet she liked that,” Quinn said before she could stop herself.

Rachel laughed as Quinn clamped her hand over her mouth.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “That’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s totally fine,” Rachel said with a dismissive wave. “I wouldn’t know what she likes, anyway.”

Quinn frowned. “But I thought you two were together?”

“We are, but her cracked ribs have prevented any kind of…strenuous activity. So we’re actually taking things slowly and getting to know each other properly instead of just letting our sex drives take over.” Rachel frowned. “Although that is becoming increasingly difficult when she keeps rubbing up against me when I change her strapping.”

This time it was Rachel’s turn to clamp her hand over her mouth and Quinn chuckled.

”God, TMI,” Rachel mumbled. “Sorry, Quinn. Anyway, the reason I’m here is because your best friend misses you. Yes, she fucked up and she’s really sorry. She’d be here herself if it wasn’t actually really bad for her current state of health.”

Quinn smiled at her in a strange way, causing Rachel to look down at her uniform. “What?” she asked.

“Santana is totally rubbing off on you. Not in the…you know…” Quinn cleared her throat. “I mean that you’re starting to speak like her.”

“Oh.” Rachel blushed. “I love how she speaks. It’s one of the things that pulled me to her in the beginning.” She glanced up. “Look, Quinn, regardless of how things happened, they did happen. They’re in the past. We can’t change that. But I know it will mean a lot to Santana if you’d go and see her. She’d come to you, but I don’t want her moving around too quickly.”

Quinn gave a small smile. “She can’t be too happy being confined to a bed for a week.”

“You have _no_ idea,” Rachel said. “Lucky for her, I’m just as stubborn. We’ve already had,” she looked up as she mentally counted, “four fights. Like full on shouting matches. We call each other names and everything.” She grinned.

Quinn frowned. “That sounds like a very strange relationship.”

“Very strange,” Rachel agreed. “But it works for us.”

“Hmmm,” Quinn mused, leaning against her locker. “I appreciate the gesture, Rachel. Um, I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Great.” Rachel had expected a vehement denial, so this was awesome. “Just so you know, I’m only going there for a little bit after school, then I’ll be at Brittany’s house before the game tonight.”

Quinn frowned. “I’d love to know how you’re juggling the two of them. They hate each other.”

“Well, they have to be nice to each other now,” Rachel replied with a laugh.

“I’d love to know how you managed that even more.”

“Go and visit Santana and she’ll tell you,” Rachel quipped. The bell rang. “Oh, I’ve gotta run to Ms. Davis and grab Santana’s Geog notes. Bye!” she called, turning down the hallway.

En route to the geography classrooms, she passed three Cheerios and eyed them warily. One of them had a slushie, but she was sipping it through a straw. They smiled nervously at her as she walked by them. Rachel figured they wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk being kicked off the squad. She’d told them all about the plan at an emergency meeting on Tuesday morning. As expected, it hadn’t gone over well – a lot of the girls wanted revenge on Santana for beating Brittany up, but Rachel had put a quick stop to that, saying that anyone would have to go through her to get to either of them. The threat of being kicked off the Cheerios seemed to be terrifying enough, even if it wasn’t coming from their captain’s mouth. The entire squad knew that Rachel was Brittany’s second-in-command, and dared not cross her. She was formidable in her own way.

* * *

After her afternoon Cheerios practice, Rachel drove to Santana’s house. Her dads were surprised to find out that she had an actual girlfriend and they were eager to meet the mysterious girl that Rachel couldn’t stop talking about, but she was adamant that it would only be when Santana was well enough to move around freely without wincing in pain every ten seconds.

Rachel was happy to admit that she loved taking care of Santana and she knew Santana _loved_ being taken care of, even if she grumbled about it non-stop.

She pulled up into the Lopez driveway and grabbed her bag with Santana’s homework. She rang the doorbell and waited patiently, humming softly.

“Rachel!” Angelo greeted with a smile, picking her off the front step in a bear hug and depositing her inside the house.

“Angelo, put me down!” Rachel squealed.

Santana’s eldest brother chuckled and closed the door behind her.

“One of these days you’re gonna actually crush me,” Rachel teased.

“And endure the wrath of my sister?” Angelo said, his eyes wide. “Definitely not on my list of to do things.” He turned to the living room. “Santa, your _exceptionally_ hot girlfriend is here for her daily booty call.”

Rachel blushed and followed him into the living room where all four Lopez siblings were gathered. She had quickly gotten used to the vast amount of teasing between sister and brothers.

“Hey,” Santana greeted with a smile. “Angelo, I’ll tell Liz all about your porn collection if you hit on my girlfriend again,” she added with a warning finger.

“God, Santana, I was kidding!” Angelo whined, flopping next to his brother.

Santana chuckled and Rachel was happy to see no flicker of pain cross her face. She walked around the big sofa to the love seat that Santana had curled up on.

“Hey, you,” she said softly, leaning down.

Santana smiled and tilted her head up, letting their lips brush softly. She carefully shifted up and made space for Rachel to sit next to her. Rachel squeezed in and snuggled into Santana.

“Aren’t they just too damn cute,” Miguel teased. “We should take a photo and put it on a Hallmark card.”

Santana flipped him off and pressed her lips against Rachel’s forehead.

“How was school?” she asked softly.

“Boring,” Rachel sighed. “Oh, you’ve got a new injury.”

“Oh, really?” Santana asked with a smile. “What now? Wounded pride, perhaps? Or maybe a cracked clavicle? No! A bruised toenail!”

Her brothers chuckled and Rachel joined in.

“Nope. You got an eye replacement because Britt hit you so hard that your eye popped out.”

Santana laughed hard and doubled over immediately after, clutching her chest.

“Rach, that was mean,” she wheezed. “Ow, dammit.”

“Angelo, looks like Rachel seems to be abusing our little Santa there,” Miguel commented, nudging his older brother. “You gonna stand for that?”

Angelo glanced at Rachel and Santana, then turned his attention back to the TV. “Cracked ribs or not, I’m not falling for that.”

Miguel chuckled. “Ferdie?”

Fernando, the youngest Lopez brother, rolled his eyes. “You know this will only end in tears, right? Most probably yours.”

Miguel shrugged, but his eyes glinted with mischief. Rachel paused in her ministrations to make sure that Santana hadn’t seriously hurt herself to see the middle brother slowly stalk towards her.

“Miguel, get your ass back on that chair,” Santana snapped, lifting her head and taking a slow, deep breath. “Cracked ribs or no, I can still kick your fat ass.”

“Ha, I’d pay to see that one, _hermana menor_.”

“Miguel, leave Rachel alone,” Carmen said, stepping into the living room.

“Hi, Carmen,” Rachel greeted with a smile.

“Rachel,” she replied, smiling. “Dinner tonight?”

“Unfortunately not,” Rachel replied. “It’s the first game of the season tonight. I’m cheering.”

“You are?” Santana asked, sounding disappointed.

“Sorry,” Rachel said softly, turning back to her. “I thought I’d told you.”

Santana sat back and pouted, causing Rachel to laugh.

“Haven’t we established that your pout doesn’t work on me?” she teased.

Santana leaned towards her ear and whispered, “Would my fingers suit you better, Cherry Berry?” She flicked her tongue out to catch her earlobe.

Rachel gripped the edge of the love seat tightly, clenching her jaw.

“ _Mija_ , try and keep it family friendly,” Carmen said dryly. “The living room is public domain.”

Santana chuckled quietly in Rachel’s ear and it sent shivers down her spine, settling uncomfortably in her core. She leaned back and smirked at a now very aroused and flustered Rachel.

“Meanie,” she muttered.

Santana raised an eyebrow in challenge so Rachel leaned in, pretending to snuggle, but rested her head on Santana’s shoulder so that she could whisper in her ear without anyone else hearing.

“Your fingers are what make me shudder every night, Santana,” she whispered slowly. “And your name is on my lips every time.”

Santana’s breathing picked up and she bit her lip. She shifted slightly so that her legs could tighten together. Rachel smirked and kept her head resting on Santana’s shoulder.

“One day soon, you’re going to be _screaming_ my name,” Santana husked, surprising Rachel, but she smiled, remembering how she’d said the same thing to her not so long ago. She tried desperately to ignore the little (or not so little) voice in her head telling her to grab Santana and run upstairs with her, cracked ribs be damned.

Santana slipped her arm around Rachel’s shoulders and trailed her fingers up and down her bare arm.

“What time’s the game?”

“Eight,” Rachel replied. “But I’m going to see Britt beforehand.”

“I thought after school was my time.”

Rachel grinned again. She didn’t even have to look at Santana to know that she was pouting again.

“It is, but I was thinking maybe we could spend the whole day together tomorrow. Maybe go out a bit? Walk around, go to the mall, that kind of thing?”

“I’d love that,” Santana replied, kissing Rachel’s head again. “I feel like a damn prisoner.”

“No one’s keeping you under lock and key here, _mija_!” Carmen called form the dining room, which was right next to the lounge.

“Uh, actually, she is!” Santana called back. “Just without the actual lock and key because we’ll be needing those at a later stage,” she added in a low voice just loud enough for Rachel’s ears.

“Hey, you call me out on teasing you all the time,” Rachel said quietly, finding Santana’s free hand and threading their fingers together. “This is hard for me too.”

Santana sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m really regretting being so stupid. Quinn still won’t talk to me and I hate being this incapacitated.”

“She’ll come around,” Rachel said with a secret smile that Santana couldn’t see. “And you’re mobile. Maybe not as much as you’d like, but you’re not in a wheelchair or anything.”

“Ugh, true,” Santana said, wrinkling her nose. “I’d hate that. I’d become super bitch.”

“As opposed to your everyday cheery disposition?” Miguel taunted.

Santana grabbed the TV remote and threw it at him.

“Santana! Miguel!” Carmen snapped. “Honestly! _Te comportas como un grupo de niños_!”

Rachel always felt a little left out when the Lopez’s started speaking in Spanish. She could get by, sure, but they always spoke so quickly and with such natural accents (unlike Mr. Tanaka, her Spanish teacher) that she found it difficult to keep up with the words.

“Ah, come on, _mami_!” Miguel exclaimed. “We keep you young. You love us.”

Santana chuckled into Rachel’s hair and moved her lips against it, causing Rachel to lean her head back against the chair and meet those intense dark eyes that she’d really become addicted to.

“She just said that we act like a bunch of kids,” she whispered, nuzzling into the crook of Rachel’s neck that was now available.

Rachel giggled at the ticklish sensation of feather kisses on her neck, but Santana didn’t stop and she didn’t push her away. She loved the little moments. Who would’ve thought that badass Santana Lopez was really a soppy romantic? Rachel didn’t care. She loved the romance.

There was a knock at the door and Angelo jumped up. Santana pulled away slightly and tightened her grip around Rachel. She gently picked up Santana’s legs and pulled them over her lap. There wasn’t much space, but it allowed them to snuggle closer together.

“I wish you didn’t have stupid cheerleading,” Santana mumbled.

Rachel smiled. “You sure about that? If I didn’t have stupid cheerleading, I wouldn’t have this stupid cheerleading outfit that you love so much.”

“True,” Santana replied with a smile. “I do love that uniform. I think, however, that I would like you better _out_ of it.”

Rachel grinned and Santana matched it. They leaned in and exchanged soft kisses until Angelo coughed nervously. Rachel broke away and turned, smiling at the nervous visitor. She felt Santana stiffen in surprise.

“Quinn?”

“Hey, San,” she said quietly, her gaze flitting to Rachel’s.

“I should go,” Rachel said quickly, gently sliding out from under Santana’s legs. “Britt’s probably eating her pillow out of boredom so…yeah.” She leaned down and gave Santana a quick goodbye kiss before grabbing her bag and heading to the door. “Bye, boys,” she sang.

“Bye, Rachel!” the chorused.

_Crap! Schoolwork!_

Rachel slid to a stop before the kitchen and smiled at Carmen, who was busy whipping up some amazing concoction. Santana’s mother could _seriously_ cook. Rachel had eagerly accepted every dinner invitation after that first night. The whole Lopez family was pretty awesome and they’d treated her like an honourary member from the get-go.

“These are the notes from the classes she missed today,” Rachel told Carmen. “Could you give them to her when, you know, she’s finished?”

Carmen smiled. “Of course. Rachel,” she called, halting her exit. “I just wanted to thank you for being as attentive to Santana as you have been. I know she can be difficult and we’ve all heard your fights.”

Rachel blushed. “Sorry, Carmen.”

“No, no! It’s good! We’re Latina! We’re hot-blooded. We do everything with great passion and my little Santana has the most passion out of anyone in this family. It makes me happy that she has someone with that same kind of passion. Someone who can challenge her and make her realise when she’s being stubborn.”

Rachel chuckled. “I think that’s going to be an ongoing battle but thank you. I mean, _gracias_.”

“You’re welcome,” Carmen replied with a smile. “I’m glad she found you, Rachel. You ground her a bit.”

Rachel tried desperately to stay as far away from the gutter as she could, but her and Santana’s teasing game had made her libido even more active.

“Uh, thanks, Carmen,” she said quietly. “Uh, I really gotta go. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“ _Buenas noches_ ,” Carmen called as Rachel slipped out the door.

Rachel climbed into her car and leaned her head on the steering wheel. She knew that teasing was fun and it really was building the anticipation for both of them, but Rachel was really, _really_ worried that she wasn’t going to be able to stop herself before the full three weeks had passed. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Santana more than she was already. Besides, she had three really big brothers and she didn’t doubt that they would tear her a new one.

“Okay, what’s not sexy?” Rachel muttered, starting her car. “Football? Jock straps?” She pulled a face. “Okay, just think about guys. You’ll be fine.”

By the time Rachel pulled up outside Brittany’s house, her libido was in firm control. In fact, she may have scared it off a little. Well, a certain hot-blooded Latina just needed to raise an eyebrow and it’d be back in full-.

“Ugh!” Rachel said in exasperation. “Crap!”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

Santana grimaced as she pulled her jacket on. It was Monday and she’d woken up an extra half hour early because that’s how much longer it took her to get anything done with her cracked ribs. Granted, they were a lot better than last Tuesday or Wednesday. But then, Santana’s whole _body_ had been sore as a result of the very brutal fight.

The swelling on her face had gone, but there was still a nasty discolouration that Santana knew from years of experience with gymnastics would take at least another week to disappear completely. Until then, thank God for makeup.

Unfortunately, Rachel had early Cheerios practice so Carmen was dropping Santana off at school. She didn’t mind, but she would be a lot happier when Rachel gave her car keys back to her. She’d taken them from her on Monday evening and neglected to mention where she’d put them. She’d even gotten her mom in on it and Santana’s spare set had also miraculously disappeared.

A small smile graced Santana’s face as she thought about the last week with Rachel. It sure as hell didn’t feel like it had only been a week. And she had very pleasantly surprised by Rachel’s automatic transition to the role of girlfriend. For someone who claimed to never have been in a relationship before, she was pretty good at doing, well, _everything_ right. She’d been so attentive and careful, but also encouraged Santana to laugh (when, you know, it didn’t kill her). They’d had a few shouting matches, but Santana enjoyed them in retrospect. It reminded her that Rachel wasn’t going to be predictable. She wasn’t going to just let Santana control everything, even though she admittedly did enjoy being in control. It definitely added mystery to their relationship and Santana felt she could handle a little more mystery in her life.

A sharp pain resonated through her stomach as she stretched her arm through her jacket.

“Jesus.”

She didn’t remember Saturday being so hard. Okay, Rachel had been there to help her, but she’d done pretty much everything herself. Walking and sitting down were fine. Getting up and pretty much everything else made her wince with pain, as much as she tried to hide it. Unfortunately, Rachel had somehow already figured out how to read her and even Santana’s best poker face couldn’t fool her. Even though parts of it had been excruciating, Santana had really enjoyed her day out with Rachel. They’d just walked around mostly, which Santana had loved because she’d been cooped up all week. They’d stopped off at the mall and Rachel had entertained her by trying on various outfits. Some of them had led to heated make out sessions in various dressing rooms. Santana preferred kissing Rachel when she was standing because it didn’t hurt very much when she pushed her against a wall and kissed all the skin she could find. Rachel had given her a scolding about the three hickeys that she’d left on her neck and Santana might have felt bad if Rachel throwing a tantrum wasn’t so damn cute.

“ _Mija_!”

“ _Si, mami_?” Santana called back.

“Are you almost ready?”

Santana took a deep breath and forced her arm through the sleeve, breathing out quickly at the sharp pain. She took a few smaller breaths and looked at her reflection. She didn’t look her best, but she wasn’t _at_ her best, so she didn’t really care.

She grabbed her bag that had all her homework from the previous week completed and ready to hand in. Santana wasn’t about to let her 4.0 GPA suffer because of a stupid mistake. She opened her door and slowly made her way downstairs.

“Morning,” Carmen greeted with a smile. “How did you sleep?”

“Okay,” Santana replied. She grabbed an apple. “Kept rolling onto my right side, and it woke me every time.”

“ _Lo siento_ , _mija_ ,” Carmen said sympathetically. “I’m sure you’ll think twice about getting into any more fights now, won’t you?”

Santana rolled her eyes and bit into the apple. “ _Si, mami_.”

“Manners, Santana!” Carmen reprimanded her, shaking her head.

Santana shrugged. “You ready? Can we go? I got stuff I need to hand in before school.”

“I’m not taking you,” Carmen replied with a smile.

“Who, then?” Santana asked. She didn’t particularly care as long as she got there.

“She’s waiting outside for you,” Carmen replied.

Santana grinned, kissing her mother on the cheek and walking out the front door. She waved at Quinn, who waved back, climbing out and opening the passenger door for Santana.

“I’ve been put on chauffer duty when Rachel can’t do it,” Quinn explained once she was in the car.

Santana didn’t mind. She was just so glad to be back on speaking terms with her best friend. After a week of silence and all the drama that had gone down the previous week, things finally seemed to be back to normal between them. Well, as normal as could be when your best friend is pregnant.

They’d spent the whole of Friday night talking. Most of the time, Santana had apologised until Quinn had threatened to punch her in the stomach if she said the word ‘sorry’ one more time. Santana had obliged to that request pretty quickly. Quinn had spent the night and left when Rachel arrived far too early on Saturday morning.

“How are you feeling?’ Quinn asked, pulling out into the road.

“Sore,” Santana admitted. “I have a feeling today’s gonna be a long ass day.”

“Probably,” Quinn agreed. “Just please don’t think that you put on a brave face. Besides, Rachel and I are gonna always be around, Rachel probably more so because she’s a Cheerio.”

Santana grinned. “Two weeks ago, you’d never have said that I would be dating a Cheerio and you’d actually be kind of friendly with one.”

“Hmmm,” Quinn mused. “But the real test is gonna be with you and Brittany. Not to mention the _entire_ school is going to be watching you two all day.”

Santana sighed, grateful that it didn’t hurt anymore to do that. “Brittany accused me of wanting the spotlight and popularity that the top dogs get. I don’t know how to intimate that I really, _really_ don’t want that. We might be civil face to face, but we all know how sneaky she can be.”

“San, that was last year. I thought Rachel asked you to put all this behind you? What’s the point in trying to get over the fight if you’re just going to hang on to everything that happened before?”

Santana contemplated her words. Naturally, they made sense. Quinn always could rationalise Santana’s crazy. And when Quinn got a little crazy and her mouth ran away with her, Santana knew when to step in. It was the beauty of their five-year friendship.

“That’s going to take a lot longer to get past,” she murmured. “She made my life hell, Quinnie.”

“At your request, San,” Quinn reminded her. “Remember, we’re not dealing with the likes of you and me who actually know what accountability is…” She trailed off and glanced down at her stomach and then at Santana’s.

They chuckled.

“Yeah, we may not be the best examples of accountability either,” Santana agreed. “But I know what you’re trying to say. I need to shoulder some of the blame for what happened to me because I actually did ask for it.”

Quinn shook her head. “It just sucks that it all had to come to a head like that.”

Santana shrugged. “I’m pretty sure _something_ was going to happen eventually. I’m too protective of you and Wonder Barbie just irks me so much. It was only a matter of time.”

Quinn chuckled. “San, you’re gonna have to drop the Wonder Barbie.”

“What, down a well?” Santana teased, knowing what Quinn meant. “Quinnie, I thought you wanted me to play nice.”

“Hardy har, San,” Quinn retorted, but a smile fought its way onto her face. “Playing nice means using actual names.”

“Wait, you mean she’s _not_ a Barbie?” Santana asked in mock disbelief. “That would explain why I couldn’t find her replica doll at the toy store! The sales assistant kept telling me that no such Barbie existed.”

Quinn pulled into a spot in the lot and burst out laughing. Santana grinned. She loved making Quinn laugh. It was a really awesome sound. She was always so serious, so hearing that laugh once a day made her very happy.

“God, San, where do you come up with these things?” Quinn breathed out, wiping tears from her eyes.

“It’s called being confined to my house for a whole week,” Santana deadpanned. She added a shake to her voice, “I saw things there that I’ll never forget.”

“You’re my best friend and I love you, but you are _still_ the weirdest kid in this damn school.”

“Oh, have you heard about my bionic eye?” Santana asked suddenly, opening her door.

“What?” Quinn asked in confusion, exiting the car.

“Oh, yeah. It was one of my many injuries that I sustained during the world’s most fictitious fight.”

Quinn smiled and waited for Santana to climb out. She knew better than to make Santana appear weak at school with something as simple as getting out the car. She managed with relative ease and closed the door, shaking off the slight discomfort. Santana glanced down at her watch and saw that Cheerios practice would almost be over.

“Hey, walk with me to the field?” Santana requested.

Quinn nodded and they began a slow walk to where they could see a mass of red in the distance. They discussed what Santana had missed the previous week and Santana was confident that she wouldn’t lose any credits.

They neared the Cheerios practice area and headed up into the stands. Santana smiled at Rachel directing the girls on the floor as they tried to do some complicated roll.

“Geez, this looks intense,” Quinn whispered in her ear. “I’m really glad I never had the desire to become a cheerleader.”

“I dunno, Quinnie,” Santana replied contemplatively. “I could see you in a Cheerios uniform.”

“Oh, yeah, the baby bump is so in this year,” Quinn retorted, rolling her eyes.

Santana grinned and turned her attention back to the Cheerios.

“Sam, Natalie, Dee! I have never in my life seen such dismal attempts at a no-hand flip. Five times around the field, all of you! _Now_!”

Santana leaned forward and saw Brittany holding a megaphone to her mouth. She was dressed in her uniform, but she wasn’t participating. She remembered what Rachel had told her about Coach Pillsbury making sure they were medically okay to cheer.

“She sounds really pissed,” Quinn commented in a low voice.

“Well, if some girl had beat me down and made me miss practice for gym, I’d be pissed too,” Santana replied. “You can train for a month to get to a certain level of fitness, but all it takes is one week of inactivity to undo it all.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah,” Santana murmured. “Well, Rachel says she’ll be fine for their sectionals competition. It’s in six weeks or something so she’ll have time to train up again.”

“Still gotta be frustrating being on the sidelines.”

“No doubt. I can’t even sing without gasping in pain,” Santana said wistfully. “Oh, Rachel never mentioned anything about Glee last week. What happened?”

“Oh, Ms. Sylvester kinda cancelled Glee for the week,” Quinn said quietly.

“What?” Santana asked in surprise.

“Yeah, she said she needed to rethink priorities.”

Santana frowned. “Guess I have one more stop to make before homeroom.”

“Tread lightly, San,” Quinn warned. “She was in a foul mood the whole of last week.”

“Well, we did kind of trash the choir room.”

“Nah, it’s more than that.”

“Like what?”

Quinn shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“This is pathetic!” Brittany shouted into the megaphone. “I’m away for a week and you all turn into tubs of lard! Mandatory gym sessions _every day_ during lunch. You’re all on the master cleanse so you don’t need to eat anyway. Get to the showers before I throw up.”

“That’s probably from the concussion,” Santana murmured, trying to keep a straight face.

Quinn giggled and it was too infectious for Santana to ignore. She tried to keep it to a minimum, but soon she was wheezing in pain.

“Jesus, Quinn, I give her to you for one morning and you’re trying to kill her,” Rachel said in a teasing voice.

Santana had fallen over and pushed herself up, still chuckling. “It was me. I made a funny.”

“You made a funny?” Rachel repeated, arching an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips.

Santana thought she looked good enough to eat. She reached out and grabbed the very short red skirt that she loved so much.

”Okay, pretty sure that’s my cue to leave,” Quinn said quickly.

Rachel smiled as Santana pulled her onto her lap. She straddled Santana – a position that had fast become one of their favourites.

“Hey, sexy,” Santana murmured, running her hands up and down Rachel’s legs.

“Hey yourself,” she replied, looping her arms around Santana’s neck and leaning in.

“Rachel!”

The squeal of the megaphone interrupted them just as they were about to kiss and Santana growled in frustration when her girlfriend turned to the person with the worst timing in the world.

“Something you need, Britt?” Rachel asked snippily and Santana was glad to hear that she was irritated at being interrupted too. Oooh, Rachel was sweaty. She had sexy sweaty skin so Santana started kissing her neck, flicking her tongue out to capture the saltiness.

“Fuck, San,” Rachel hissed, her hands dropping down her back and digging her fingers into the flesh between her shoulder blades.

“Rach, showers,” Brittany ordered.

“I’ll give you a shower,” Santana murmured, dragging her tongue up the length of Rachel’s neck. “With my tongue.”

“Oooh,” Rachel moaned softly. “Fuck.”

“You have no idea-“ Santana began.

“ _Rachel_! Now!”

Rachel let out a string of expletives that all string together to form a very long, very sexy sounding word. Santana reluctantly pulled away.

“Sorry,” Rachel murmured. “I’ll meet you at your locker before first period, okay?”

Santana nodded, squeezing Rachel’s sexy ass before releasing her. Her eyes followed her down the bleachers to where Brittany was waiting. Their eyes met and Santana held the gaze. It was cool, but not friendly.

Rachel and Brittany turned and walked towards the locker rooms. Santana sighed and rested her head on her hand.

She wanted to make the effort for Rachel’s sake, especially after everything she’d done for her. She really hoped that Brittany wouldn’t make it overly difficult for them.

* * *

“What the hell was that?” Rachel asked as soon as they were out of earshot of Santana and Quinn.

Brittany shrugged, trying to play it nonchalant, but she already knew that it wasn’t going to fly. Rachel knew her too well.

“Bullshit, B. What is it? You jealous? You still pissed? What is it?”

Brittany frowned. She actually didn’t know _what_ it was, but any time Rachel was with Santana, she just felt the need to disrupt them.

“I dunno,” she mumbled. “Maybe I’m still whacked out on pain meds.”

“Hey, if you’re not ready to be back here-“

“No, I can’t bear being in that house for one more fucking day,” Brittany said quickly. “I was about to go crazy.”

“About to?” Rachel teased, pushing open the door to the Cheerios locker room.

Brittany cracked a smile and leaned against her locker as she watched Rachel pull her Cheerios top off. Her eyes widened.

“Jesus, Rachel! It looks like you have leprosy or something!”

Rachel blushed and smiled, her hand subconsciously going to the three marks on her neck. Her Cheerios top covered two of them and Brittany hadn’t noticed how strategically Rachel had placed her hair to cover the third.

“There’s this handy thing called concealer,” Brittany said dryly. “You should try it.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “I knew I was going to shower before school so I didn't bother putting it on because it would’ve just washed off.”

“Oh.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow and continued undressing. Brittany rolled her eyes at the lingerie. It was _practice_ for Christ’s sake. Who the hell was going to see…oh.

She was reminded of _once again_ seeing Rachel straddling Santana as they made out. It _really_ was becoming an unfortunate habit. And Brittany expected it to happen a lot more frequently what with them dating now. Part of her was still confused as hell about _how_ they’d even ended up together. Two weeks previously, Santana hadn’t even given Rachel the time of day and now they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

In addition, she was supposed to be _nice_ to Lupus. Or Santana. Brittany sighed. She supposed that she’d have to call her by her actual name. She didn’t think she’d actually ever done that. And honestly, she couldn’t bring herself to care that she hadn’t. But she’d promised Rachel she’d try and Rachel had totally saved her skin by not getting her kicked off the Cheerios. So she figured she kinda owed her. Plus, she’d been really nice the previous week, coming to visit her and help her with the strapping and keep her company. Her parents had been away (surprise, surprise) and had sent an email saying that they were glad no permanent damage had been done and that she should get well soon. Such loving parents. Her little brother and sister had been an absolute pain in her ass. She’d told them to sleep out as much as possible because she sure as hell wasn’t mobile enough to run around after two hyperactive eight-year-olds.

“So deep in thought?” Rachel teased.

Brittany opened her eyes, realising she’d closed them and saw that Rachel was already out of the shower. She turned around, suddenly feeling weird that she was seeing her naked.

“B, what’s up?” Rachel asked curiously. “You’re acting weird.”

“Well, in case you forgot, I did get into a fight with your girlfriend last week and got a lovely concussion out of the deal,” Brittany snapped automatically.

“Careful, B,” Rachel said in a warning tone. “I did you a favour, remember? I didn’t have to, but I did. I think I deserve a little bit more respect than that.”

“Respect?” Brittany seethed, whirling around and immediately wishing she’d done that a little slower. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me? The entire fucking school knows that I got beat by Santana Lopez and that my best friend left me out to dry.”

Rachel scowled and grabbed her underwear, pulling it on underneath her towel.

“I’m so sorry that you feel so victimised when you started the fucking fight in the first place,” she snapped. “I’ll make sure that the next time you fuck up, I’ll kindly look in the other direction.”

She clipped her bra into place and pulled a clean uniform on in record time.

“Don’t think for a second that you’re exempt from the new rules around here, though,” Rachel added. “Play nice or you’ll be in the sub-basement where you’re so petrified of ending up.”

Brittany just glared at her as she quickly pulled her wet hair into a tight ponytail and grabbed her shoes and bag, walking away.

* * *

Rachel stopped before she left the locker room and pulled on her socks and shoes before redoing her hair, making it a little looser so that when her hair dried, it wouldn’t pull so tight. As she went through the motions, she tried to calm herself down.

Where the hell did Brittany get off playing the victim? And where the hell had all this come from? She’d been fine all week long and had promised her that she’d be super nice to Santana. Then there had been the interruption after practice and now the blow up.

Rachel shook her head and exited the locker room, heading for her locker. She was still fuming and didn’t notice anyone or anything. Regardless, a path still opened up for her as she walked. She spun the lock when she reached her locker, her frustration preventing her from concentrating enough to open it.

“Those damn things can be tricksy,” a velvety voice said next to her.

Rachel turned to Santana, whose teasing face immediately changed to one of concern when she saw her face, and leaned against her, burying her face into her neck.

Santana’s arms went around her, holding her as tightly as she dared without causing further injury and Rachel appreciated it. They both ignored the looks they got and the whispers that started circulating immediately.

“What happened?” Santana asked softly, pulling away slightly so that she could look into Rachel’s eyes. She cradled her face in her soft hands.

Rachel sighed and shrugged. “I don’t even know what happened. She just went completely off at me, accusing me of choosing you over her.”

“But you didn’t,” Santana protested. “You went to see her just as much as me last week.”

“Yeah, but she knew I’d rather be with you,” Rachel mumbled. “I kinda talked about you _all_ the time.”

Santana smiled. “Well, you definitely get more brownie points in my book, but maybe she just misses her best friend. You know, the Rachel she had before I came into the picture.”

Rachel grimaced. “That Rachel slept around and laughed when you got slushied.” She shook her head. “She’s not coming back. I like the new Rachel better.”

Santana smiled softly. “I like her too.”

Rachel returned the smile and leaned up to kiss her girlfriend. She heard a camera go off and broke away, glaring at some kid in green with a camera and a big smile.

“Care to explain what the _fuck_ you’re doing?” she snapped.

“Oh, I’m just takin’ a pitcher of the two most popular girls in school to show me mam,” he replied.

Rachel looked at Santana, who matched her _what the fuck_ face.

“New kid,” Santana said, stepping in front of Rachel, who then just slipped her arms very gently around Santana’s waist and buried her face into her back. “I’m gonna let you in on how things work around here, okay? If you wanna take a picture, you ask. You don’t just click. Me and my girlfriend here don’t particularly want pictures of us popping up in Ireland or anywhere for that matter, unless we put them there ourselves.”

“What she said,” Rachel mumbled against Santana’s back. She lifted her head. “Oooo, idea.”

“Hmmm?” Santana asked, turning around.

“You know how you mentioned posting pictures?” Rachel asked with a devious smile.

Santana rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I love your one-track mind and I’ll love it even more when I can actually take advantage of all your wonderful ideas, but right now, I’ll settle for a proper good morning kiss.”

Rachel grinned and leaned up, skipping Santana’s mouth and moving to her ear. “But that kind of kiss can’t really be done in public, can it?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Santana breathed. “Ugh. Where’s a goddamn genie when I need one?”

“Why do you need a genie?’ Rachel whispered in her ear.

“So that I can wish my ribs to be healed.”

“And then what would you do?”

She felt Santana’s lips against her bare neck curve into a smile. “Well, you always get three wishes with a genie, right? So I’d wish everyone and everything in this school to freeze except for the two of us and then I would take you into every single room and fuck you in all of them.”

“Oh,” Rachel breathed, tightening her legs. “There are over one hundred classrooms in this school.”

“Then for my third wish, I’d have lots of Red Bull available,” Santana replied. She pulled back. “Oh, babe. You missed one this morning.”

Rachel pulled back and looked at her in surprise.

“What?” Santana asked, her brows furrowing in confusion. “It doesn’t look that bad, really, but I dunno, maybe Coach Pillsbury-“

“You called me babe,” Rachel interrupted softly.

“Oh.” There was a faint blush on Santana’s tan cheeks and it just widened Rachel’s smile. “Sorry, I guess it kinda slipped out.”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

Rachel nodded.

“Okay.” Santana’s smile matched hers. “But seriously, you may want to get that covered, Rach.”

Rachel sighed. “You know what? I don’t give a fuck. I don’t care if the whole school knows that my girlfriend has a serious penchant for giving me hickeys.”

She turned back to her locker and spun it left, right then left again, smiling as it popped open easily. She grabbed her books for the first period and tried shoving her bag inside the small locker.

“Uh, why didn’t you leave that in your gym locker?” Santana asked.

“Because I just wanted to get away from her. I was afraid I might say something really bad.”

Santana paused. “I’ll take it back for you,” she said softly, holding out her hand.

Rachel frowned. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re upset and she’s pissed. You guys ended up in this predicament because you can’t control your emotions around each other.”

“Geez, you make it sounds like we’re dating,” Santana teased, grabbing the Cheerios bag. “It’ll be fine. I promise to you, on pain of no kisses for the rest of the day, that I will be on my bestest behaviour.” She held up her right hand and tried to look solemn.

Rachel burst out laughing and leaned up to kiss her cheek. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Actually, yes. I tell myself frequently.”

Rachel smiled and shook her head. “I’ve got Cheerios training at lunch, but I’ll see you in Glee later?”

”Yup, unless I snag you in the halls between classes,” Santana said with a smile.

Rachel smiled back but worry overran it.

“Hey,” Santana said softly. “I learnt my lesson, Rachel. Trust me on this, okay? If things get too intense, I’ll walk away. I made you a promise and that means something to me.”

Rachel nodded, her worry only slightly appeased.

“Okay, I’ll see you later?”

She nodded again and automatically tilted her lips up to meet Santana’s in a brief but meaningful kiss.

“I’ll text you,” Santana whispered, trailing her finger down the side of Rachel’s face before she spun around in the direction of the locker room.

Rachel sighed and held her books to her chest. She started towards homeroom, then spotted the green boy from earlier.

“Hey!” she called, walking over to him.

She definitely did not want the picture of her and Santana ending up on Twitter or Facebook or Tumblr.

* * *

Santana pushed open the locker room door and headed straight for the secluded Cheerios room at the back. She remembered Rachel’s locker and had figured out her combo pretty easily during one of their many talks.

She hummed as she spun the dial, smiling when it popped open. She grinned when she saw a small picture from last year’s Thunderclap had been posted on the inside of the door.

 _Oh, yeah. Shit just got real. Pictures on locker doors._ Santana chuckled to herself and put the red bag at the bottom, making sure she didn’t knock anything over. She closed the locker door and jumped when the Head Cheerio appeared behind it.

“Jesus, that’s some fucking magic trick,” she said, wincing slightly at the discomfort being frightened had caused her.

Brittany just stared at her, her arms folded across her chest.

Santana looked around and saw that they were alone. Should she try? Trying was better than nothing, right?

“Uh, look, Brittany,” Santana began. “First off, I’m sorry about last week-“

“You’re _sorry_?” Brittany spat, stepping forward. “Sorry doesn’t cut it. Not by a long shot.”

Santana’s eyes narrowed and she desperately fought that natural instinct to battle right back. “Well, I’m sorry that you feel that way,” she said in what she hoped was a calm voice. “We were both to blame, though. Regardless,” she continued before Brittany could say something, “I think you should apologise to Rachel. After everything she’s done for you, it was a little uncalled for that you snapped at her.”

“What, she goes crying to her little girlfriend now?” Brittany said spitefully and Santana’s eyes narrowed. “Guess you took her backbone when you sold her whatever story to get her on your side.”

“On my side? Seriously? That’s what you think this is about? Brittany, this is _not_ a competition! I’m not conspiring to steal your best friend away from you. Trust me, I’m pretty sure we do things that best friends should _not_ do, even if they are untouchable cheerleaders. But that’s not the point. The point is that Rachel misses you. She misses her best friend. She says that you’re kind of just going with whatever she says because you feel obliged to or something because she saved your Cheerios spot.

“Well, here’s a little titbit of knowledge for you. The thing about a best friend is that you can do something for them, no matter how big or small, and not actually expect anything in return. I can tell you now, Rachel did what she did because you’re her best friend and she doesn’t actually expect anything from you to say thank you or anything. Other than maybe actually saying thank you.”

Brittany was frowning as she finished her speech and Santana looked at her curiously.

“I know that she asked both of us to play nice and I’m willing to do that if you are,” Santana said honestly. “I’d be lying if I said that I’d waited for this day to come, but here it is and after everything that she’s done for _me_ , I’m going to do this for her.” She shrugged. “And maybe one day down the line, we might actually be genuine friends.”

Brittany still didn’t say anything, just held that frown on her face. Santana began to feel uncomfortable with the silence and started rocking on the balls of her feet. Brittany was a lot harder to read that she’d expected. It was easy when she was angry, which was often, but this whole silent treatment thing was hella confusing for her.

“Um, so I’m gonna go…” Santana said, starting to step backwards.

“I think I’m jealous,” Brittany finally said.

“Okay,” Santana said, frowning in confusion. “But like I said, I’m not out there to steal your best friend. You don’t need to be jealous of me.”

Brittany looked up and Santana felt that same pull that she’d felt on the first day of high school when she’d seen those crystal blue orbs. She breathed in sharply, mentally shaking her mind of the memory. That was the past. Rachel was her present and maybe her future. Definitely her near future at the least.

“I’m not jealous of you,” Brittany said quietly.

Santana snapped out of it and stared at Brittany as all possible meanings of what she’d said filtered through her brain. Unfortunately, only one really stuck and it was the one that really worried Santana.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

Santana was walking very quickly out of the locker room. She hadn’t said anything to Brittany, just stared at her before turning on her heel and fleeing the scene.

_What in the hell just happened?_

She was freaking out. Like really freaking out. Brittany Pierce, Head Cheerio, Wonder Barbie herself, had pretty much just _admitted_ that she was jealous of Rachel. And Santana wasn’t stupid enough to question what she was jealous of. What was the _only_ thing that Rachel had that Brittany didn’t (Other than twelve A-Okay ribs)?

Her.

Santana Lopez.

Lupus.

Ugh.

This was messed up. Not a _fuck_ was Rachel ever going to hear this from her. If Brittany felt so inclined to enlighten her best friend of her new revelation, then that was all on her.

“Santana.”

She skidded to a stop and found herself exactly where she’d planned to come after dropping Rachel’s bag off.

 _Yeah, before all that shit hit the fan_.

“Ms. Sylvester,” Santana replied, gathering herself as best as she could.

_Forget about it. Forget her._

She stepped into Ms. Sylvester’s office and stood politely in front of her desk.

“How are you feeling?”

“Um, a little tender, but otherwise good,” Santana replied. “Um, Ms. Sylvester, I would like to apologise for my behaviour last week. It was completely out of control and disrespectful. And it will never happen again.”

Ms. Sylvester just looked at her with interest.

“You know I had nothing to do with your lack of punishment.”

It wasn’t a question, more a declaration.

Santana nodded. “I know what Rachel did. She told me everything that was said. I’m truly grateful for sticking her neck out for me like she did.”

“She cares about you,” Ms. Sylvester said.

Santana nodded and a small smile slipped onto her face. She had to admit that she hadn’t thought she’d _ever_ feel this way about Cherry Berry, but the heart wants what the heart wants.

“Um, Ms. Sylvester, I hope it’s not out of place for me-“

“Okay, hold it,” Ms. Sylvester interrupted and Santana quickly shut her mouth. “I get that you’re sorry, but please cut the polite student thing. It’s really weirding me out.”

Santana laughed a little too hard and gripped the back of the chair she was standing behind as spasms of pain shot up her ribs.

“Damn, Ms. S,” she wheezed. “I know I pissed you off, but do you have to encourage me to laugh?”

“That’s more like it,” Ms. Sylvester said with a smile. “Now, what did you want to ask me?”

“Why’d you cancel Glee last week?”

Santana was always to the point. She thought that after all the shit she’d pulled last week that being polite would be sensible, but people like Quinn and Ms. Sylvester forgave her and just wanted their normal Santana back.

Ms. S put down the pen she’d had in her hand and gave Santana a measured look. It was a little unsettling, like she was drilling into her brain to deposit little nanobots to record her every move. Uh…what if they recorded when she and Rachel were-

“Santana!”

“I’m here!” she said quickly.

_God, my mind had a free reign sitting at home. I’m back at school now – gotta reel that shit in._

“I said that I felt we needed to re-evaluate why we were all there. I know I sure as hell did.”

Santana dropped her head. She hadn’t meant to make people feel guilty.

 _Yeah, calling bullshit on that one, Santa_.

Ugh, why did the voice in her head have to sound like Miguel sometimes?

Okay, so she had meant for people to feel guilty. Guilt spurred reactions. It had kicked Rachel into action.

“Have you re-evaluated?” Santana asked.

Ms. Sylvester nodded. “Choir room. Three pm.”

Santana smiled. “See you then.”

* * *

Brittany stared at her reflection in the mirror.

 _What the fuck? What the fuck? What the_ fucking _fuck??_

She wasn’t exactly sure how long she’d been hiding out in the Cheerios locker room, but she vaguely remembered two bells ringing. So what was that? First period? Second period?

The basin was full and Brittany just buried her face in the cold water. Something had to shake her out of the zombified state she was in.

_Did you just say zombified?_

She blamed Rachel. Because Rachel was hanging with a nerd and she had started saying random shit like that. Brittany didn’t like how Santana Lopez had arrived on the scene and just messed everything up.

Yes, it was her fault.

Her fault.

Brittany was _definitely_ not to blame.

 _Shit_.

What in the hell had made her say that? Maybe the pain meds were still running through her system.

_Yes! That’s totally a valid excuse._

She’d just tell Santana that she was high on pain meds. She’d apologise to Rachel and everything would be fine. Totally fine.

_Yes._

Because she was definitely _not_ jealous of Rachel. She was her best friend. Yeah, they bitched each other out endlessly, but they were actual friends and Brittany had everything that Rachel had, and more.

_Except-_

_Shut up._

Great. Her conscience was at war with itself. Brittany was running out of air and lifted her face out of the cold water. She didn’t feel much different, though.

_Okay, just sit down and fucking sort your head out._

Brittany could do that. Who the fuck cared if she missed class? She’d just get some freshman degenerate to do her work.

Crap. What if Berry’s new awkward as shit rules meant she couldn’t do that anymore? Ugh. What was the point of working so damn hard to be on the top if it didn’t _mean_ anything?

 _Focus_.

Right.

Santana. Santana with Rachel. Or was it Rachel with Santana? Why had she thought she was jealous of Rachel? More importantly, _why_ had she pretty much told Santana that she was jealous that Rachel was with her.

_Her and not you?_

Please. As if. Brittany Pierce was _not_ gay. She’d never even kissed a girl. Besides, her parents would flip a fucking lid. As it was, they were barely home, but when they were, Brittany was the picture-perfect daughter. They had no idea about her partying, her drinking or her sexual escapades.

 _Something_ was up with Lopez, though. Sure, she’d caught them making out a couple of times and it had been hot. But, hey, that’s why Rachel had done it in front of the guys – to tease them because they loved it for some reason.

Okay, so _maybe_ Brittany had a very small idea of what that reason could be. Girls were sensual. They were soft and small and smooth and _no_ there was absolutely _no_ reason why every single one of those adjectives started with the same letter as Santana. Utter coincidence.

Brittany flopped onto the bench, wincing only slightly as she bent over and dropped her head into her hands.

Fine, so if she _acknowledged_ that Santana was okay-looking for girl-

_Bullshit, she’s smoking. And Rachel was right – her abs could rival yours._

What the hell was the point of reflecting if her fucking conscience was going to interrupt her every fucking five seconds with pointless remarks.

_Pointless my ass. You know I’m right. And you can’t shut me up. Sucker._

Brittany huffed. Okay, then if her conscience was such a fucking smartass then maybe _it_ could explain to her why she would have said something so crazy to Santana.

_Uh, duh. Maybe you shouldn’t skip so many classes, Blondie._

Seriously? Now she had to take abuse? Fuck that. Brittany stood up and grabbed her bag. And no, she wasn’t going to class just because her fucking conscience had told her to.

_You like Santana Lopez. And you like her like you’re supposed to like boys._

She froze. No, no, no, no, no. She did _not_ like Santana Lopez! The bitch had fucking cracked two of her ribs! And punched her in the face! And given her a concussion – something that had put her out of cheering for a whole fucking _month_ and she was not happy about it.

Brittany tried focusing that anger toward Santana, but then she remembered that damn _smirk_ and those ridiculously dorky glasses and…

“Shit.”

_Oh, yeah. Told ya. You should just accept it and challenge Berry for Santana’s honour._

Honour? Yeah, she was definitely still high on the meds. Once again, she blamed Rachel. Because Rachel hung out with Santana. And Santana spoke like that. And they probably did a whole lot of other stuff-

_Jesus! You really enjoy thinking of Santana getting all hot and bothered, don’t you?_

“No,” Brittany growled to the empty locker room.

Screw it. She wasn’t going to have her entire fucking high school career thrown down the tubes because of some medically-induced hallucination where Santana Lopez was suddenly attractive and sexy and sassy and-

Brittany shook her head. Goddamn ‘s’ adjectives. They needed to be torn out of the dictionary and burned.

No.

She was Brittany Pierce and she was the HBIC at William McKinley High. So she wasn’t able to slushie anyone anymore. Big whoop. She could deal. And how would she deal? The same was she dealt with everything – throw a party.

What was that saying? The quickest way to get over someone was to get under someone else. Well, Santana Lopez herself had suggested that Brittany do that, and because she was such a good friend, she’d listen to what her new _friend_ had advised.

Brittany grinned. Whatever this random thing with Santana was would be gone by the time her party came around. Her parents were scheduled to be in England or some shit in two weeks, which coincided perfectly with her ribs and concussion being pretty much healed.

She pulled out her phone and set the event up on Twitter and Facebook. She’d peruse the guest list later and delete the undesirables.

Oh, yes. Fierce Pierce was back, bitches.

* * *

Santana saw Brittany at the Cheerios table during lunch and frowned. Rachel had said that they were all supposed to have some extra practice. But then again, it wouldn’t surprise Santana if she’d just scheduled it for Rachel.

She winced. Sometime between learning about the levels of mitosis and irregular Spanish verbs, she’d decided that she was going to really give Brittany the benefit of doubt, for Rachel’s sake if anything. What had been said in the locker room before school was immaterial. Santana was with Rachel. And Brittany was...

Well, pigs would fly before anything happened between her and Brittany Pierce.

“Hey,” Quinn said, sitting down next to her at the Glee table, but getting a strange look on her face as soon as she did.

“What’s-“ Santana started to ask, but Quinn just sprinted out of the cafeteria.

“She okay?” Tina asked, raising an eyebrow.

Santana turned around and shrugged. “Probably a nasty fruit shake or something this morning. No idea how she drinks that shit.”

Tina chuckled and Santana breathed an internal sigh of relief. She glanced back to the door that Quinn had disappeared through, but there was no sign of her.

“So, what’d I miss?” Santana asked, popping a cheese fry into her mouth. “You know, other than my bionic eye. I actually thought that was quite cool.”

“Um,” Tina said, glancing down at her food.

“Let me guess,” Santana said with a smirk. “The hot topic was not, in fact, my awesome showdown with one Brittany Pierce, but in all actuality, it was the fact that Glee was cancelled all of last week.”

Tina smiled, but it wasn’t a full one. She was nervous, Santana could tell. She rolled her eyes. “Relax, T. I was kidding. I know people have been talking about me and Rachel.”

Tina’s eyes went wide and Santana mused that she couldn’t actually tell the difference. She giggled to herself and Tina just looked at her weirdly.

“So, is it true?” she asked in a whisper.

“Is what true?” Santana replied, raising and eyebrow and popping another cheese fry into her mouth.

“About you and Rachel.”

“What about me and Rachel?” Santana grinned and munched another fry. God, they were so deliciously bad.

Tine rolled her eyes and Santana’s narrowed slightly as Mercedes sat down next to her.

“Hey,” Mercedes said quietly and Santana could fees the anxiety rolling off her in waves.

“ _Have you met Miss Jones_?” she sang softly.

Mercedes grinned and Santana matched it. It had been their code thing since elementary school. Out of everyone at McKinley, Santana had known Mercedes the longest. They’d grown up together in Lima Heights Adjacent, but had moved into a bigger house in upmarket Lima when her brothers had started high school.

“What’s the gab?’ Mercedes asked, tossing a tot into her mouth.

“Well, I’d just asked-“ Tina began.

“Hey!” Mercedes protested when Santana grabbed two tots and popped in her mouth.

Santana grinned a mouthful of potato and Mercedes and Tina grimaced.

“Ugh. Can’t say we’ve missed your manners around here,” Mercedes muttered.

Santana swallowed. “I know you guys missed me. Cos _you_ came to sit at _my_ table.”

“This is the Glee table,” Tina replied with a frown.

“Nope, I renamed it the Santana Lopez Table of Unbridled Kickassery.”

“And when did you do that?”

“Beginning of lunch,” Santana replied. She shrugged. “You guys should feel honoured that I’m actually _allowing_ you to bask in my presence. You are the first two that have been extended that honour.”

Tina and Mercedes burst out laughing.

“Okay, so maybe we missed you a little,” Mercedes admitted.

“Santana, you have successfully avoided answering my question about four times,” Tina accused. “So let’s have it.”

“I think I should check on Quinn,” Santana said, making a big show of looking around.

“Relax, she’s here,” Mercedes said, inclining her head towards the main doors.

Santana spun around and saw her best friend being led by Rachel.

_Hmmm. Guess they’re more friendly than I thought._

“Hey,” Santana greeted both of them. “You okay, Quinnie?”

Quinn nodded slightly and sat down next to Santana.

“Thought you had some Cheerios smackdown?” Santana asked.

Rachel grinned and rolled her eyes. “No, dork. We were supposed to have extra training during, but I was the only one there so I just bailed.” She glanced at the full Cheerios table. “Not that B looks too perturbed.”

“Mmmkay,” Santana replied. She tugged on Rachel’s skirt to make her bend down so she could whisper in her ear. “Thanks for taking care of Quinn. She doesn’t normally let people see her like that. That’s why I stayed here.”

Rachel sat down next to her on the bench and the cafeteria seemed to go a little quieter.

“I didn’t do anything, really,” Rachel whispered back in Santana’s ear, using her hand to hide the words from Mercedes and Tina’s inquisitive eyes. “I went into the bathroom as she was coming out the stall. I just made sure no one else came in while she cleaned herself.”

Santana smiled. “More brownie points for you.”

“Score.” Rachel fist pumped and laughed.

“Hey, Rachel.”

Santana looked up and frowned with displeasure at the very punchable face of Artie Abrams.

“Artie,” Rachel said diplomatically.

“You seem to be a little lost, Rach. Me and the boys thought we’d escort you back to your table.”

The emphasis that he put on _your_ made Santana’s teeth grate a little.

“Nah, I’m good,” Rachel replied, grabbing one of Santana’s cheese fries. “Besides, you guys still think that this lame attempt at chivalry is gonna convince me that you _don’t_ want a peek at these rambunctious twins. Sorry, fellas, but only one girl gets to see these babies.”

Santana laughed and clutched the table as pain shot through her stomach.

“Jesus, babe, you weren’t supposed to laugh,” Rachel berated her.

“How the _fuck_ did you expect me to stay quiet after that comment?’ Santana said through gasps. “Fuck, that was amazing, Rach.”

“Well, I guess that answers that question,” Tina said to no one in particular.

Santana rolled her eyes and straddled the bench so that she faced Rachel who still looked a little concerned. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Artie still standing there.

“Hey, buddy,” she called. “Take a hint. What you’re packing, she doesn’t want. As, I’m sure, do the majority of women in Lima.”

Now it was Rachel’s turn to burst out laughing. She rested her hand on Santana’s leg as a brace. Santana grinned and spun around to check on Quinn.

“You okay, friendling?”

Quinn smiled faintly at the old nickname. “Just a little tired,” she said quietly. “It’s taking a lot out of me.”

Santana frowned and sat normally again so that she could lean closer to Quinn.

“Do you want to go home? Or to the doctor or something?” She said it so softly that she knew only Quinn could hear her.

Quinn shook her head, her hair bouncing slightly. “I’m good, San. Thanks. Really,” she insisted.

Santana gave her a wary look and pretended to examine her with each eye, closing each one, taking her glasses off and putting them back on. Eventually, a small laugh escaped from her best friend’s lip.

“Booyah,” she congratulated herself.

Quinn just smiled and went back to her chicken salad. She felt Rachel’s fingers slip between her own and rest on her deliciously bare leg.

“Yummy,” Santana murmured, glancing at their different skin tones against her girlfriend’s tanned thigh.

Rachel chuckled. “I think the word you’re looking for is wanky,” she said in a low voice.

Santana cocked an eyebrow. “The word I’m searching for, I can’t say because there are people from Lima Heights Adjacent present,” she replied, ending her sentence as a stage whisper.

“Fucking hilarious, Lopez,” Mercedes muttered, but there was a smile on her face.

Santana winked at her and turned back to Rachel, who was leaning on her hand, her elbow resting on the table.

“What?’ Santana asked curiously.

“Just thinking.”

“Good thing you’re sitting down then,” Santana teased, earning herself a shoulder slap. “Hey! I’m injured. You’re not allowed to abuse me.”

“Ha! Don’t think I don’t know about the touch football game you convinced your brothers to let you play in yesterday,” Rachel said with a glare.

Santana’s mouth dropped open. “And I thought my methods of confidentiality torture were so effective,” she mused.

“Santana, be serious! You can’t risk prolonging your recovery.”

“Why?” Santana asked with a devious smile.

Rachel reddened, but her confidence wasn’t shaken. “So that I won’t have to run around after your lazy ass.”

“Pffft. You love my ass.”

Rachel grinned. “Not as much as you love mine.”

“Oh dear God, please stop!” Tina squeaked. “Seriously, I can’t actually handle this. Rachel, what the _hell_ have you done to her?”

“I am free of any and all blame,” Rachel said quickly, holding her hands up. One of them was still entwined with Santana’s and at seeing such an obvious display of togetherness, both Mercedes and Tina’s mouths dropped open.

“Quinn, you seem awfully quiet,” Mercedes commented. She always was a shit stirrer. “Did you know about this?”

“It was kinda obvious when they were making out in Santana’s living room,” Quinn replied calmly.

“We were not making out!” Santana argued.

“We kinda were, babe,” Rachel replied.

“Shut up,” Santana said, holding up a hand. “Quinnie, I didn’t know you were coming over. Otherwise I would’ve like, met you at the door or something.”

“San, how could you have known? I was being an ass, completely ignoring you. It was Rachel that got me to come over.”

Santana turned and looked at Rachel. She was feeling a very interesting mix of emotions.

“You went behind my back after I asked you not to?” she asked Rachel, setting her jaw.

Rachel shrugged. “You did the same to Quinn. And hey, it got you guys talking again.”

“Uh oh,” Santana heard Mercedes whisper.

“Not even _close_ to the point,” Santana snapped. “Did it occur to you that I wanted to suffer the consequences of my actions?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “A little melodramatic much? You spent all week in that bed, complaining about how sorry you were. That was long enough. You were driving me crazy and I’m pretty sure your mom was about to tape your mouth closed. So I did you a favour. And you can pay me back later.” She grabbed another cheese fry and wiggled her eyebrows. “Much later.”

“San, just say thank you and let it go,” Quinn said in her quiet voice. She only ever used it on Santana and Quinn knew Santana well enough to know the power that voice wielded.

“Fine, Cherry Berry, but I don’t owe you shit. You went behind my back.”

Rachel laughed. “Oh my God, the sex is going to be _amazing_.”

The entire table went quiet, as well as a few tables around them. Eyes were on Rachel and Santana rolled her own.

“Bravo, big mouth.”

“Whatever. You like that about me too.”

Santana couldn’t hold back the smirk that had been fighting its way onto her face.

“Uh, you’re too fucking charming, dammit,” she said, trying to sound irritated.

Rachel grinned. “And that’s why you dream about me every night.”

“Oh, Jesus. Is it going to be like this all the time with you two?” Tina asked, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Santana, Rachel and Quinn all said.

“You kinda just ignore it and eventually it’ll blend into the background,” Quinn said, with a smirk that Santana hadn’t seen since the beginning of summer.

Santana gasped, holding her hand to her chest in fake disbelief. “Quinnocence! Doth my ears deceive me? Hast though forgotten mine face? Was hast these demonic fruit shakes done to thine awesome brain?”

The table burst out laughing again and Santana leaned her head on Rachel’s shoulder, linking their fingers together again.

* * *

 _Ugh. So frigging charming_.

Brittany rolled her eyes at Santana leaning her head on Rachel’s shoulder. She turned back to her fellow Cheerios and sighed.

“I’m bored,” she stated.

“Oh, God, I thought I was the only one,” one of the seniors breathed out. “Britt, seriously, you can’t support Berry’s crazy idea? I mean, she’s only doing this to get in Santana’s pants.”

Brittany shrugged. “Look, guys, she saved my ass. So I owe her. We’re doing this. It’s kinda shitty because it’s still new and we’re not used to it, but it’ll get easier. When we walk though these doors with that Sectionals trophy, no one will need reminding who the top bitches are in this school.”

She saw some of the Cheerios nodding in agreement and arched an eyebrow at the rest.

“Ship up or ship out, ladies,” was all she said before standing up and heading out the cafeteria.

She chanced a look at Rachel and saw Santana looking at her. Their eyes met and Brittany felt a chill.

It was just a draft from the open door. She broke the look and continued through the double doors.

 _Yeah, right_.

Did consciences laugh? Cos it sure as hell sounded like that’s what hers was doing.

* * *

Brittany walked into Glee as Ms. Sylvester had started whatever lame speech was meant to inspire them this week.

“Brittany,” Ms. Sylvester greeted.

She returned a half-hearted wave and sat in her seat in the back row. As Ms. Sylvester droned on, it occurred to Brittany that she hadn’t actually been back in the room since the fight. She looked around. There was certainly no evidence. She’d half expected to see some dried blood on the walls or something.

She chuckled to herself.

“Something humorous about that, Brittany?”

“Wha?”

“Did you find something funny about what I just said?” Ms. Sylvester repeated.

“Well, if I knew what that was, then probably,” Brittany replied.

There were a few muted snickers. Ms. Sylvester folded her arms across her chest and looked at her expectantly.

Brittany rolled her eyes. “Fine, I was just wondering why there’s no dried blood or anything. I figure there should be cos that’s probably the most action this room will ever see.”

“Actually, last year-“

“Yeah, didn’t ask you, Queen Quinn.”

“B,” Rachel said warningly from her position next to Santana.

“Apologies, _Quinn_ ,” Brittany said. She shrugged. “It just kinda looks like it was erased like it never happened.”

“Four broken chairs,” Ms. Sylvester said, indicating four haphazardly stacked chairs in the far corner by the door.

“Hey, one for each of my cracked ribs!” Santana said enthusiastically, holding up her hand for Rachel to high five.

Rachel obliged, giggling and Brittany tried not to grimace. Yeah, she definitely was _not_ interested in Santana Lopez. She felt sorry for Rachel, really. Did she not see how boinking the school weirdo was going to _destroy_ her rep?

“Moving along,” Ms. Sylvester said crisply. “After no Glee last week-“

 _Damn, came back to school in the wrong week_.

“-I have come up with a very appropriate theme for this week. I think that at least two of our members should think long and hard about which song they want to choose.”

“May we do a duet?” Quinn asked.

“If you choose,” Ms. Sylvester. “But see if the assignment is applicable first.”

“Ms. S, you’re keeping us in suspenders here, and I, for one, left my spare pair in my _abuelo_ ’s Humvee.”

The group chuckled and Brittany rolled her eyes again, ignoring the small tug that her mouth was trying to pull off at Santana’s comment.

Ms. Sylvester smiled. “Accountability.”

_Ugh. Seriously? Way to be subtle, Ms. S._

“Oh, I am _so_ on this,” Santana said, standing up.

“What, now?” Ms. Sylvester looked shocked.

“Ms. S, you’re all kinds of awesomery, but you’re also kinda predictable. And this also happens to be one of my favourite songs, so if you’ll allow me to kick this week off with a dash of Adam Levine?”

“Ooooh, that boy be super fine,” Mercedes said, swooning.

“Don’t get us confused, though, kay?” Santana said with a straight face. “Cos I’m pretty sure Rachel will have to beat your ass to defend my honour and then we’ll all have to come back here next week after Glee being cancelled because we need a lesson in accountability.”

This time Brittany let out a little snort and she caught Santana’s gaze. Santana smiled and Brittany tried to wipe her face clean, but the way she spoke was very…distracting. She understood what Rachel meant now.

No, wait! What? Argh.

_This is not happening. Fierce Pierce, dammit! Fierce Pierce!_

“Welcome back, Santana,” Ms. Sylvester said dryly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Hmmmkay. So, this song is awesome and I am awesome, therefore it only stands to reason-“

“Geez, and you say _I_ talk a lot?” Quinn interrupted.

Everyone laughed and Santana huffed. Brittany thought it was kind of cute.

Wait, no she didn’t. She _absolutely_ didn’t. It was the meds.

“Don’t make start spouting Shakespeare again,” Santana threatened with a smile. “Okay, but in all seriousness, I was an ass last week. I got hot-headed and let my emotions get ahead of me. So to Brittany, I apologise, once again, in a public setting.”

Brittany blinked. Santana was talking to her. And looking at her.

Ugh.

She nodded curtly and Santana shot her a cute little smile.

God dammit! It wasn’t fucking cute!

“And to Rach, you know how much I appreciate what you did, so thank you again. To Quinn and Ms. S, I apologise as well, because I disrespected both of you and I am truly sorry that I let that happen.”

“We get it, you’re all sorry and mopey,” Mercedes cut in, snapping her fingers. “Less jabber, more singing. Come on, Miss Levine!”

Santana rolled her eyes and skipped over to the band, leaning closer to discuss the song.

And _no_ , Brittany’s eyes were _not_ roaming towards her ass. It wasn’t even close! She’s simply _glanced_ at the drum set where Santana _happened_ to be standing. She absolutely was not looking at her ass. Even though it was cute.

 _Not fucking cute!_ Brittany wanted to scream.

She watched as Santana blew a kiss to Rachel and winked at her. The band started up and she arched an eyebrow. This was going to be very tongue in cheek.

_“How dare you say that my behaviour is unacceptable, so condescending unnecessarily critical. I have the tendency of getting very physical so watch your step cause if I do you'll need a miracle.”_ _  
_

Brittany had to admit that she was impressed by Santana’s ability to perform a song a week after getting seriously injured. She was doing a little jig and everything as well. _  
_

_"You drain me dry and make me wonder why I'm even here. This double vision I was seeing is finally clear. You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone. Not fit to friggin’ tread the ground I'm walking on.”_

The other members joined in on the chorus and Brittany swore her foot got a little mind of its own as it started tapping to the beat.

_“When it gets cold outside and you got nobody to love, you'll understand what I mean when I say there's no way we're gonna give up and like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams. Is there anyone out there cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe_ _  
_

Brittany saw Ms. Sylvester raise her eyebrows at some of the lyrics, but she thought that somehow Santana would get away with it because clearly she had a knack for it.

And, it had to be said, she had a knack for singing. Not just a knack. She had a fucking good voice and Brittany reckoned Adam Levine would be proud of her rendition.

Santana walked up to where Rachel was sitting and crouched, looking at her seductively as she sang the last bit of the song.

_“Does it kill, does it burn? Is it painful to learn that it's me that has all the control?”_

Rachel laughed out loud at that and slapped Santana’s ass as she turned around to dance.

Once again, it was not Brittany’s fault that she saw that. And her gaze may have lingered, but it was only because she wanted to check what type of jeans Santana was wearing.

 _Lame!_ Her conscience sang. _  
_

_“Does it thrill, does it sting when you feel what I bring and you wish that you had me to hold?”_

Brittany frowned and didn’t miss Santana’s subtle glance in her direction as she made her way back down to the floor for the final chorus.

The applause was loud and Santana bowed low. Brittany saw her in slight discomfort. Singing with cracked ribs probably wasn’t the best idea but it seemed that Santana Lopez ran on ideas that bordered on the crazy line.

Yet another reason why Brittany had every intention of staying far away from her. Not that she would _need_ to because being in the same room with her was totally fine.

See? Rachel just kissed her and it was fine. So she wasn’t jealous. It was the meds, Or indigestion. Or something. Definitely _not_ anything to do with feelings.

“Santana, as…questionable as your song choice was-“

“Ah, come on, Ms. S. That song was banging,” Santana interrupted with a grin.

 _Banging?_ Brittany mouthed to herself.

“Regardless, Santana, please remember lyric appropriateness in this room. I don’t care what you sing at home, but when you’re at school or representing the school, you will not sing songs that laud sexuality.”

“Cos I don’t?” Santana asked, pouting. “Ms. S, I may have to go to therapy now or something.”

Ms. Sylvester smiled and shook her head. “I’ll see you all tomorrow. Start working on those accountability numbers!”

Brittany grabbed her bag and was out the door before anyone else had even risen out of their seats. She made her way quickly out to the parking lot and cringed when the familiar high-pitched voice of her coach carried across the lot.

“Pierce!”

Brittany turned around and dutifully retraced her steps to wear Coach Em was waiting on the stairs.

“Progress report?’ she demanded. 

”Good. Rachel has let the squad slacken a little, but I’ll whip them back into shape by Thursday for the pep assembly on Friday.”

“Good. Nothing less than perfection,” Coach Em said, raising an eyebrow.

“Absolutely, Coach,” Brittany replied, nodding.

She watched the Ginger Ninja disappear inside and rolled her eyes. Melodramatic much?

Brittany turned and walked back to her car, humming. She stopped herself when she realised it was _Harder to Breathe_. The song was catchy. That was it.

“Hey, B!”

“What now?” Brittany muttered, unlocking her car and tossing her bag inside. She leaned against her car as she waited for Rachel to jog up to her.

“Hey,” Rachel said breathlessly when she reached her.

“Hi,” Brittany replied, trying to look disinterested as she looked out across the lot.

Unfortunately, her eyes came to rest on one Santana Lopez and the look she was giving Brittany was very clear: Make up.

When the hell did her life become the fucking Santana Lopez Show?

“I’m sorry, Rach,” Brittany said quietly. “I was a bitch this morning. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Rachel’s smile kinda made it worth it. She had a really big smile and it filled her whole face. Almost. Sort of. But it suited her.

“Thanks, Britt. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Brittany just nodded.

“Oh, um, I wanted to ask you if it would be ok if I was a little late to practice tomorrow morning?”

“No,” Brittany replied automatically. “You know the rules, Rach.”

“Yeah, I know, but I need to fetch Santana tomorrow morning because she can’t drive yet-“

“I’m driving,” Brittany cut in. “And I shouldn’t be.”

“Your mom and brothers won’t behead me if I let her get behind the wheel of a car,” Rachel replied with a smile. “Her family’s crazy.”

“Met the parents, huh?” Brittany teased. “Guess you’re serious about this one?”

Rachel smiled a shrugged, turning to look at Santana. “I dunno,” she mumbled. “Maybe. Kinda.”

Brittany fake smiled. It was her best weapon. She’d perfected it from an early age and used it on everyone.

“So, how late are we talking here? And why can’t Quinn take her?”

“Quinn had…something on tomorrow morning otherwise she would. Um, I’d be like twenty minutes late?”

“Make it ten, Berry,” Brittany replied. “And you’ll get ten laps for your troubles. Five additional laps for every minute you’re later than agreed.”

Rachel rolled her eyes but nodded. “Thanks, B. You’re the best.”

“Hmmm,” Brittany replied, opening her car door.

The next ten seconds happened in slow motion. Brittany watched Rachel run to where her car was parked. Santana was leaning against it, talking with Quinn. When she saw Rachel running up, she hugged Quinn goodbye and Quinn turned away. She must not have seen the cyclist. He definitely didn’t see him and he was going really fast.

“Quinn!”

Santana’s cry came too late as the cyclist barrelled into Quinn, the handlebars hitting her square in the stomach. She flew back about five metres and lay on the ground, her body still.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

Santana sat as far forward in the uncomfortable plastic chair as she could without either falling off it or tipping it over. Her hands were permanently wringing over themselves and even though Rachel had distracted her from that by linking their fingers together and holding her hand tightly, she’d gone to go and get them all coffee and now Santana was back to wringing her hands.

Quinn was her best friend. Her _best friend_. She should be there, next to her, holding her hand, asking if she needed water or ice chips or something.

 _Argh! I feel so fucking_ useless _!_

Her brain was screaming at her.

Is this what Quinn had felt when she’d watched Santana fighting with Brittany? This feeling of complete helplessness, but uncontrollable anger at the world in general?

“I got you some coffee, San,” Rachel said softly, sitting in the chair next to her.

Santana just shook her head, bouncing her legs impatiently. She stared at the white linoleum floor.

‘What can I do?” Rachel asked desperately.

“Rewind the clock,” Santana muttered bitterly.

Rationally, she knew that Rachel was just trying to make her feel better. But what could cheer her up or bring a smile to her face when her best friend was lying in a hospital bed with injuries unknown. With losses unknown.

“Santana?”

She lifted her head at sound of Fiona Fabray’s voice. She stood up and quickly crossed the waiting room and hugged her tightly.

“How could this have happened?” Fiona cried into Santana’s shoulder. “She was supposed to be coming home from school right after Glee.”

“She was, Mrs. Fabray,” Santana said quietly, her voice scratchy from swallowing her tears of sorrow and anger. “It happened at the school. She was about to leave and this…the bike…he came out of nowhere and he was going so fast and he just…he hit her!”

Santana had never, not once in her entire sixteen years of living, babbled. Yet here she was, unable to form a coherent sentence with the woman who knew her as Quinn’s self-proclaimed big sister.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” Santana stuttered.

“Sssshh,” Fiona soothed, rubbing her back and pulling her into another hug.

* * *

Rachel furrowed her brow as she saw Santana’s shoulders start to shake. She was crying?

Fuck this. She couldn’t just sit there and watch her girlfriend in such pain. She walked to the nurse’s desk.

“Excuse me, but we’ve been here for the better part of an hour with no word whatsoever on Quinn Fabray. Is there any way that we can just get a ‘yes, she’s okay’ or ‘she’s stable’ or _something_?”

“I’m sorry, but as I’ve told you seven times already, you’re not family, therefore I’m bound by law,” the nurse replied politely, but Rachel could see her patience was wearing thin.

“Well, her mom’s here now,” Rachel said, gesturing to the woman she assumed was Quinn’s mother. They sure as hell looked alike.

“Then any news that comes through will be told to her,” the nurse replied and the look in her eyes warned Rachel not to push her any further.

Normally, she’d pull the full drama queen hysterical act, but she didn’t think that Santana would appreciate that. Frustrated, Rachel went back to sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

“You okay?” Brittany asked her quietly.

“No,” Rachel snapped. “My girlfriend is a mess because she doesn’t know if her best friend is okay. And if the…she just needs to know that Quinn is okay.”

“Look, you know I’m no good in situations like these,” Brittany said. “I always say the wrong thing, whether it’s insensitive or whatever, but you’re a good girlfriend, Rach. As nauseating as it is to watch you two, you seem to be good for one another.”

Rachel blinked and looked at her best friend, who was sitting in the chair next to her, one long leg crossed over the other and inspecting her nails.

“B…” Rachel began, “I don’t… Thank you,” she finally said sincerely. “I know we kind of bombarded you and I shouldn’t have brushed off your feelings the way that I did, but-“

“Feelings? What feelings?” Brittany asked suddenly, her eyes wide. “I don’t have any feelings. None at all. You and Santana, you have feelings. Me? No, I don’t have feelings.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes in confusion. “I’m not sure whether you’re being sarcastic here…”

Brittany smiled. “Nope, I mean it. I know you’ve never done the whole feelings thing, which is why it’s your thing. Yours and-and Santana’s. Where the hell is Puck?”

Rachel’s head snapped around. “Why? Do you see him?”

“No, which is weird. He’s been frigging glued to Quinn’s side since the beginning of the year and now when she’s in trouble, he’s nowhere to be seen.”

Brittany had a point. When – if – Puckerman showed, she was going to have to keep a tight leash on Santana. She was bound to tear his throat out.

“Did you see him at school today?” Rachel asked curiously.

Brittany looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Nope. Not that I would’ve noticed. I was barely in class today.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” Rachel said slowly. “Were you in pain? Did you want to go home?”

“Uh, no. I was just skipping,” Brittany said quickly, her eyes fixated on her nails again. “No reason.”

“Uh huh,” Rachel said, unconvinced.

Brittany may have thought that Rachel was oblivious to her tells, but she wasn’t. She knew all about the fake smile and the skilful lack of eye contact. Brittany was hiding something and she would eventually find out what that something was.

“Coffee?” Brittany asked, standing up suddenly.

Rachel held up her still full cup and smirked in amusement. Maybe it was because they were at a hospital. Sometimes hospitals freaked people out. She shrugged and returned her attention back to Santana, who was now sitting on a chair next to Quinn’s mother, gesticulating as she spoke. She saw Santana take a deep breath and run her hands quickly through her hair. She stood up and Quinn’s mom nodded at whatever she said.

Rachel immediately stood up when Santana turned around and started walking back in her direction. Their eyes met and Santana just held up a hand, pointing to the restrooms. Rachel knew better than to follow her. She just nodded and sat back down.

* * *

Brittany spun around the corner and breathed a sigh of relief. That had been way too close. Had Rachel figured something out? God, had Santana _told_ her something?

It was mortifying. Of course, she would just deny anything if Rachel did ask.

Brittany shook her head and headed for the coffee machine. Rachel would no doubt question her if she went for coffee and came back with none.

She waited patiently as the machine spat out the liquid that the hospital passed off as coffee. She capped the lid and took a sip.

“Mother fucker,” she hissed as the lid fell off as it touched her lips, causing the hot liquid to splash down onto her uniform.

She squeezed her eyes closed in frustration and stared at the ceiling as if it was somehow its fault. Angrily, Brittany tossed the whole damn coffee into the trash, not caring that she messed everywhere. Coach Em was a complete _bitch_ about keeping their uniforms pristine. If they brought uniforms in for dry cleaning that had suspicious stains, she demanded to know the full story. Something as mundane as spilling coffee generally warranted fifty laps and two hundred push-ups. At least.

Brittany pushed the door to the bathroom open and headed for the nearest sink. She turned on the hot water and pushed open the first stall to grab some toilet paper as the paper towel dispenser was empty and froze when she saw Santana sitting on the closed toilet lid, her legs pulled up to her chest. She lifted her head and Brittany saw tears running down her face, her eyes the saddest she’d ever seen anyone’s.

“Uh, I-I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

She started to pull the door closed when Santana’s voice stopped her.

“Wait.”

It was thick with unshed tears and Brittany looked frantically at the entrance to the bathroom, silently begging for anyone else to come walking through to save her. She didn't do the whole comforting thing. Sure, she’d said a few nice things to Rachel, but she’d known Rachel for years. She barely knew Santana and after everything that had already happened earlier that day, she was the _last_ person Brittany needed to be comforting. Or whatever.

“Relax, Brittany,” Santana said tiredly, stepping off the toilet and wiping her eyes. “I’m not going to ask you to hold my hand or anything.”

“Good,” Brittany breathed, then clamped her hand over her mouth.

Santana gave her a very small smile and shook her head slightly before moving past her to the sinks. She went to the one where Brittany had run the hot water and put her hand under the running stream.

“No,” Brittany warned, too late.

“Jesus fuck!” Santana cried out, pulling her hand away quickly.

“The water’s hot,” Brittany deadpanned, not sure what else to say.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock?” Santana snapped, glaring at the cheerleader as she cradled her reddening hand. “Got any other pearls of wisdom hidden under that bottled mop of hair?”

Brittany’s eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to snap back, but Santana beat her to it.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Still getting used the whole no rage thing.”

_Well fuck. Why’d she have to do that?_

Brittany had been all ready to give Santana a piece of her mind before she’d pulled the apology card.

 _Shit_.

It was so much easier when she could be a bitch to Santana. Why couldn’t things just go back to the way they were?

“Bet you’re wishing you could chew me out right now, huh?” Santana said, wincing in pain.

“Uh, yeah,” Brittany muttered, something spurring her into motion.

She walked to the sink with the running hot water and shut it off, turning the cold on instead.

“Put your hand under here,” she instructed, keeping her tone neutral.

Santana frowned and looked at her. Brittany just stared back. She looked quite a sight. There were tears tracks down both cheeks and her eyeliner was smeared. Her cheeks were flushed from crying and her lips were dry.

_And why in the hell are you looking at her lips?_

Brittany jerked her eyes away and focused on the running water.

“It’s going to blister if you don’t cool the skin down,” she muttered.

She saw Santana moving slowly towards her and she stepped away from the sink deliberately in the opposite direction.

“Never pegged you to know something about first aid,” Santana commented, hissing as the cold water touched her heated skin.

“Having eight-year-old twin siblings kinda forces you to,” Brittany muttered.

She frowned. What the hell? Why was she speaking to Santana? And _why_ was she saying something personal?

“Twins? Your parents are brave.”

Brittany shrugged and studied the stain on her Cheerios top.

“Coffee accident?”

Brittany sighed sharply. “Okay, look. You don’t have to do the small talk thing. We both promised Rachel we’d be friendly, but that doesn’t mean we have to actually _talk_.”

“Fine,” Santana replied, shrugging.

“What?”

Brittany couldn’t believe it had been that easy.

“Whatever, Brittany. You obviously have some kind of issue that you’re dealing with and the last thing I want to do is make it more complicated. So don’t stress about it. I’ll stay out of your way and if we happen to be in proximity to one another, we’ll just be civil.”

“Um…”

Santana chuckled and looked up from her hand to meet Brittany’s eyes. “You didn’t think I’d make it that easy, did you?”

“Honestly, no,” Brittany replied. “Our history doesn’t exactly… We’re not shining examples of being civil people.”

“True. But Rachel has really opened my eyes and she’s risked a hell of a lot to be with me so it’s only fair that I do my part.”

“Yeah,” Brittany muttered.

 _Because I need_ another _reminder of that._

“Um, look-“

“You good?” Brittany interrupted, having a good idea about what Santana was leaning toward. “I’m gonna go.”

“Your uniform,” Santana said.

“I’ve got five others,” Brittany said dismissively, walking to the door.

She pulled the door open, misjudging the lax swing back and the corner hit her squarely in the face.

“Fuck!” she screamed, holding her nose.

“Oh, Jesus.” She heard the water being shut off.

Tears were streaming down Brittany’s cheek and they weren’t from crying.

“Let me see,” Santana said, trying to move Brittany’s hands away.

“No!”

“Brittany, stop being ridiculous. Just let me check to see if it’s broken.”

“What?” she said in horror, dropping her hands.

Not a broken nose. Oh, dear God. What the fuck _else_ could go wrong?

“Um, okay, just hang on a second,” Santana said after inspecting Brittany’s face for a few moments.

She couldn’t even see anything because the tears were blurring her vision. She wiped them away and her thumb accidentally brushed the bridge of her nose and she yelped in pain.

“What happened?” Santana asked.

“I knocked it by accident,” Brittany mumbled, real tears starting to form. This was turning into the week from hell. As if last week hadn’t been enough torture. And it was only Monday.

“You need to lie down to stop the bleeding,” Santana said gently.

“What?” Brittany squeaked. “I’m bleeding?”

Santana smiled. “Not a lot. The force of the door just probably burst a few veins. But you need to lie down,” she reiterated.

“Here?” Brittany gestured around the bathroom, grimacing.

Santana knelt down on the floor, wincing slightly and holding her side. “You can rest your head here.”

“Um…”

“You want blood on that top too? I’m sure Coach Pillsbury will have a field day with you trying to explain how you let a door slam into your face.”

_Don’t do it._

_Do it. You know you want to._

_Shut up._

_Fuck it._

_ARGH!_

Brittany swallowed and rubbed her suddenly sweaty hands against her red skirt repeatedly as she slowly knelt on the ground. Now she was eye level with Santana, who looked at her expectantly. She held a wad of wet toilet paper in her right, non-injured hand and grimaced.

“It’s a means to an end,” Santana said, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, but we’re in a _hospital_ ,” Brittany argued. “They’ve got proper medical stuff.”

“You wanna fill in mountains of paperwork and wait two hours to be admitted or do you want me to get you cleaned up in five minutes?”

“Fine,” Brittany huffed.

She hated logic. It never favoured her cause.

She turned and leaned back slowly. She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped.

“Just me,” Santana said softly, guiding her down to finally rest her head on her thighs.

_Jesus, this is really not a good idea._

“Too high,” she heard Santana muttered. “Hang on.” She gently lifted Brittany’s head and shuffled till she was sitting cross-legged and carefully lowered her head to rest where her shins crossed.

For a really bony part of the leg, Santana’s shins were surprisingly comfortable.

“Okay, this is gonna hurt,” Santana warned.

“Any way you could _not_ hurt me?”

“Give me ten seconds to feel if it’s broken,” Santana murmured, her eyebrows scrunching together as she studied Brittany’s nose.

She tried tossing her loose hair over her shoulder, but it just fell back in her face, obscuring her vision. Santana sighed impatiently and reached up, twisting it on top of her head. It somehow stayed there and Brittany couldn’t help the thought that entered her mind.

_How does she look that good with minimal effort?_

_SHUT UP._

“Okay,” Santana mumbled, eyes focused and steady hands nearing Brittany’s face.

“Wait, wait!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Santana breathed in irritation. “Brittany, my mother is a plastic surgeon. I grew up studying models of noses. I know what I’m doing, okay?”

“Your _mom_ is a plastic surgeon?” Brittany asked, squinting up to look at an upside-down Santana.

“Yes,” Santana sighed. “And she only does highly technical procedures that require intense bone reconstruction or removal.”

“Cool,” Brittany mumbled.

“What does your mom do?” Santana asked.

Brittany sighed and focused on the creamy looking skin on Santana’s exposed neck. She frowned, but couldn’t seem to look away, the different visions of Rachel’s hands wandering over Santana’s body worming their way into her head.

“She’s my dad’s PR officer.”

“What does your dad do?”

“He’s a writer,” Brittany replied, watching as the skin moved whenever Santana slightly altered the angle of her neck. “Mostly journalism, but he’s quite popular. He goes to all the major things. They’re going to some big thing in London in two weeks.”

“That’s cool,” Santana said genuinely.

“Hmmm,” Brittany mumbled.

It wasn’t cool. It sucked. Her parents were _never_ home and she always had to play pseudo mom to her brat kid brother and sister. They listened to her achievements as though it was simply expected for her to be the kind of person she was. She hated it.

“Oweee!” Brittany screeched, squeezing her eyes closed in pain as Santana pressed on the left side of her nose. There was a small crunch and Brittany opened her eyes in alarm.

“Is it broken?” she asked fearfully.

“Nope,” Santana said with a smile. “It’ll bruise a little, but no fracturing or break.”

“Oh, thank God,” Brittany breathed.

“Okay, this won’t hurt as much as what I did just now, but I’m just gonna clean you up. There’s blood like, all over your face.”

“Attractive,” Brittany muttered.

Santana just smiled and started wiping the wet paper over her cheeks, chin and under her nose.

“Could you tilt your head back a little for me?” Santana asked softly.

Brittany obliged and Santana cleaned around her nose. She had a really gentle touch.

“Are you going to be a doctor?” she asked suddenly.

Santana blinked in surprise but smiled. “What makes you ask that?”

“I dunno. You said your mom was a doctor and you’re really good with your hands. Uh…” Brittany’s eyes widened as she realised what she’d said. “I mean, your good at taking care of…um…shit.”

She just closed her eyes to avoid the mortification of Santana’s gaze.

“I don’t know,” Santana replied quietly. Her ministrations continued softly and they coaxed Brittany to open her eyes again. “I mean, I’d love to. I think I’d love it, but my mom’s career, back when she was still at a practice full time, was incredibly time consuming and we hardly got to see her. When we were growing up, it was always just me and my brothers. My dad’s a chartered accountant so his hours were also crazy.”

“That sucks,” Brittany heard herself murmur.

Santana shrugged. “When we moved, my mom decided to only work part time so that she could be part of our lives more.” She smiled briefly. “We’re always incredibly grateful to her for that.”

“Lucky.”

“Yeah.” She smiled wider. “I love the relationship I have with her. Actually, with all my brothers, too. But in answer to your question, my brother Miguel is studying medicine. When he’s home, I go through some of his books to see if it interests me.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, but then I think about the time it took my mom away from us and I don’t if I could do that to my family.”

“You want kids?”

Santana smiled ruefully. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, yeah,” Brittany mumbled, averting her eyes. “I mean…I dunno.”

Santana hummed a laugh. “To be fair, Brittany, you don’t really know me so a snap judgment like that is a little uncalled for, don’t you think?”

She didn’t say it maliciously and it made Brittany feel really bad.

“Sorry,” she said quietly.

“No problem,” Santana replied easily, continuing her careful clean up. “But yes, I’d love to have a family. My mom is one of three kids, my dad is one of four and there’s four of us.”

“Wow, you have three brothers?”

“Yup. All older. Well, at least in age,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Brittany smiled and their eyes met. No words were spoken for a while and Santana’s hand stilled. She started to feel her heart rate slowly increase in speed and she saw Santana’s eyes flicker very briefly down to her lips.

“Uh, you-you have…um, your lips,” Santana murmured.

“Huh?” Brittany squeaked.

In response, Santana ran the damp towel across her lips. Brittany could feel her breath hitch.

_No, no, no. This was wrong. Shit!_

Brittany sat up quickly, sliding away from Santana, pulling her legs up to her chest in the same way she’d found her in the cubicle. They both sat, just looking at one another, Santana’s brow furrowing more and more as her mind obviously worked through something.

“Thank you,” Brittany said quietly.

Santana just nodded slowly.

“This is weird,” Brittany breathed out.

“Yeah,” Santana replied quietly. “Um, how does your nose feel?”

Brittany tested it out, wrinkling the muscles in her face and gently prodding it with her finger.

“A little tender, but fine.”

Santana nodded. “When you get home, just put some ice on. It’ll-“

“Reduce the swelling,” Brittany cut in with a small smile. “Yeah, I know.”

The door swung open and Brittany spun around. Rachel froze when she saw the two of them sitting on the floor. Brittany didn’t know what her face looked like but coupled with Santana’s red hand and the bloodied wet paper in her other hand, it probably looked like they’d been in another fight. Santana’s eyes widened as she came to the same realisation.

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I burned my hand with hot water and Brittany hit her nose with the door.”

She frowned and looked down. Brittany couldn’t help the giggle that rose in her throat. It really sounded ridiculous. Santana glanced up and smiled.

* * *

Rachel felt like she’d stepped into the twilight zone. Her best friend and girlfriend, previously sworn enemies, were giggling on a bathroom floor. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear something more had been going on, but that wasn’t possible.

“Um, San,” she said quietly, catching her laughing girlfriend’s attention. “Quinn’s asking for you.”

Santana was up and in front of Rachel in two seconds flat.

“She’s okay, right?” she asked worriedly. “How’s…everything?”

Rachel tried her best to keep an emotionless face, but she couldn’t. Not around Santana. She simply shook her head.

“Shit,” Santana breathed.

“You should go to her,” Rachel said.

Santana nodded. “Find Puck. Get him here.”

Rachel took Santana’s hand, not realising it was the one she’d burned and frowned when she hissed and pulled it away. She looked down and took it more gently. The skin was red, but there wasn’t any blistering. She brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss on the knuckles. Santana smiled sweetly at her and leaned in for a brief kiss.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Room 414,” Rachel replied. “I’ll wait for you.”

Santana kissed her again before walked out and Rachel turned back to her best friend to see her back turned and her gaze fixed on the opposite wall. She rolled her eyes.

“She’s gone now. You can look again.”

Brittany slowly stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She grimaced at her red nose and the beginnings of some bruising.

“Seriously not my week,” she muttered.

“You okay, B? It doesn’t look that bad.”

“Yeah, that’s only cos…” she trailed off and looked down.

“Cos?” Rachel prompted.

“Nothing,” Brittany replied shortly.

Rachel frowned. “What’s going on, Britt? I thought things were cool with us? You’ve hardly spoken to me all day. The most substantial conversation we’ve had today was in the waiting room earlier. You’re shutting me out. I know it. Why?”

Brittany just shook her head. “Dealing with stuff,” she mumbled. “I’ll be fine, Rach. I just…I’ll deal with it. Believe me when I say that it has nothing to do with you, okay?” She met Rachel’s gaze in the mirror and she saw that Brittany meant it.

Rachel nodded slowly but wasn’t entirely satisfied. Brittany normally played things close to the chest – Rachel was the only person that she had ever confided in and that was only on a rare occasion.

“Wanna come wait with me?” she offered.

“Um, I should go home,” Brittany mumbled. “I need to get ice on this before it swells up like a bitch.”

“It’s not broken, though, right?” Rachel asked worriedly. The last thing they needed was for Brittany to sustain another injury that would prolong her return to cheerleading.

“Not broken,” was all that Brittany said quietly.

“I’ll walk you out to your car then,” Rachel offered and Brittany nodded.

She hesitantly linked her arm through Brittany’s and smiled when she tightened the grip.

* * *

Santana took a deep breath as she stood outside Room 414. She had to be strong.

Forget about the fear, forget about seeing her fly through the air, forget about you were too terrified to check to see if she was alive. She’s alive and she’s here.

Santana nodded to herself and knocked twice on the door.

“Come in,” Fiona’s voice rang out.

Santana slowly opened the door and peeked her head in.

“Oh, finally!” Fiona said gratefully, walking up to her. “Rachel was beginning to think she’d never find you.”

“Sorry, I, uh, burned my hand,” Santana said lamely, holding up her left hand.

“Are you okay?” came a soft voice from the bed.

Fiona stepped aside and Santana’s heart sank a little. Her best friend looked so pale. She had a bruise on her cheek and grazes on her forehead and chin. But her eyes – Santana knew those eyes better than anyone’s. They were so, so sad.

“Quinnie,” she breathed.

“I’ll leave you two for a few minutes,” Fiona said to no one in particular.

Santana just heard the door close behind her as she walked up to Quinn’s bed. She stood awkwardly next to it, her hands behind her back.

“I’m not contagious,” Quinn said softly, a small smile on her face. It wasn’t a real smile though. Her eyes were still sad.

“I’m sorry,” Santana whispered, her voice breaking.

“Stop that. San, this was not your fault, nor could you have done anything to prevent it. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“But-“

“No buts.” It was Quinn’s _don’t argue_ voice.

Santana wasn’t about to start a fight so she kept quiet. She did step closer to the bed though. Quinn reached out her hand and Santana took it gently.

“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly.

“Sore,” Quinn replied. “Nothing major, other than, you know.”

Her face was unreadable and Santana hated it. She hated not knowing what Quinn was feeling because it meant that she couldn’t make it better.

“I-“ Santana’s voice broke and she cleared it before trying again. “I wish there was something I could do to make it better.”

Quinn sighed again and the girls spent a few moments in silence.

Eventually, Quinn broke it. “Do you believe in fate?”

Santana nodded slowly.

“You believe that everything happens for a reason?”

Santana nodded again, her throat getting tight. She knew where this was going.

“Maybe this was meant to happen,” Quinn whispered. “I was never… I’m too young. I’m…I’m relieved.”

She let out a breath and Santana could tell that she had been holding that in for a while.

“You one hundred percent on that, Quinnie?”

She nodded. “I didn’t want to be a mom, San. I didn’t. But I couldn’t have a…you know.”

Santana squeezed her hand lightly.

Quinn took a deep breath. “Someday. But not now. It was a mistake.”

Part of Santana was relieved that Quinn was handling this so well, but she also wondered how much this was going to really affect her in the long run.

“Does your mom know?” Santana whispered.

“I asked the doctors not to tell her. But she has to know because I’m a minor and she’s legally responsible for my medical care, which means she needs to know everything that’s going on. But I need to be the one to tell her.”

“Quinnie, I know you’ve had one hell of a day, but you can’t let this linger too long.”

“I know,” Quinn replied, nodding. “I’m going to tell her tonight.” She squeezed Santana’s hand. “Does Puck know?”

”Rachel’s trying to contact him. He wasn’t at school today.”

“Yeah, I know. I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday.”

They fell into a silence again, only to be broken by a gentle knock on the door.

“Sorry, Santana, but the doctor just wants to check on her again. Hopefully he can discharge Quinn tonight and she can come home.”

“I’d like that,” Quinn murmured.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Santana asked. “I can stay with you tonight?”

“No, I’m gonna be home this week. Doc says I’m on strict bed rest.” She smiled and it warmed Santana’s heart to see her eyes lighten up a little too. “Looks like we swapped positions this week.”

“Yeah,” Santana replied with a smile. “At least you don’t have an overbearing girlfriend who needs to make sure that you’re completely incapable of doing anything yourself.”

“No, I have you for that,” Quinn teased.

Santana laughed. “You bet your ass, Fabray.”

“Come over tomorrow after school,” she suggested.

“Okay, but I’ll text you.”

Quinn nodded and pulled her in for a hug. Santana squeezed as tightly as she dared. They pulled away and Santana stepped backwards as the doctor took over, asking questions.

She paused at the door and caught Quinn’s gaze, sending her a wink and a smile. It was returned and she knew that things may actually be okay.

* * *

Rachel hung up her phone and made a move to throw it on the ground.

“Whoa!” Brittany said, catching her arm. “What the hell, Rach?”

Rachel was seething. She didn’t think she’d _ever_ been so mad.

_That good-for-nothing, piece of shit, lower than scum dirtbag asshole!_

“Rachel?” Brittany queried, her voice worried. “That look is scaring me.”

”Good,” she said through her teeth. “Because he’d better be fucking scared.”

“What? Who?”

Rachel tried to control her breathing.

“Who, Puck?” Brittany asked.

Rachel just nodded and started pacing the sidewalk outside the hospital where they were standing. Her phone rang again and she winced when she saw who it was. Santana was going to be _pissed_.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted, seeing Brittany turn away in her peripheral vision.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Out the front. You not staying with Quinn?”

“No, she said I should come over tomorrow. She’s okay, though.”

“That’s good. I’m glad.” And she was. For Quinn. Not so much for Puck.

“Okay, babe. I see you,” Santana said, hanging up.

Rachel turned and saw Santana walking quickly towards the exit. She looked much better than she had in the bathroom and Rachel was reluctant to take that away.

“Hey,” Santana greeted with a smile, leaning in for a kiss.

Rachel reciprocated and hugged her tightly.

“Any news on Puck?” Santana asked once they’d pulled away.

Rachel opened her mouth, furrowed her brow and closed it again.

“What?” Santana knew something was up.

“His phone’s off,” Rachel said quietly.

“Okay.” Santana said it slowly.

“I called his mom.”

Santana’s eyes narrowed.

“Baby, promise me you’ll try to stay calm, okay?” Rachel asked earnestly.

“I can’t make any promises, Rachel, but I’ll do my best,” Santana said in a low, angry voice.

Rachel took a deep breath. “His mom checked his room. His stuff’s gone. Puck’s gone.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

She was pissed. Actually, no. She was _livid_. Fuckerman was done. He was dead. He’d signed his death wish. No amount of douchebagness would protect him now. Nothing that Quinn or Rachel could say would stop her from kicking the _shit_ out of him.

One problem. She had no idea where he was. And taking off school after having just come back from a week went against her grain. So fine. She could wait. She’d bide her time, coming up with the perfect punishment for the biggest asshole move in the history of assholes. And let’s face it, history has a lot of motherfucking assholes.

“Babe, get out of your head.”

Rachel’s voice broke Santana’s inner plotting.

“Leave me and my thoughts alone, Rachel,” she mumbled, looking out of the passenger window at the poetic rain falling on the windows.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m having dinner with you and your family tonight, Santana, so you’ll just have to put up with me and my annoying probing for a little longer.”

Santana couldn’t help the smirk the crossed her face. She really did love that Rachel’s mind was stuck in the gutter just as much as hers.

“Gotcha,” Rachel said softly, finding her hand and linking their fingers together.

“I hate how you know me so well already,” Santana mumbled. She didn’t have the energy to speak properly. “Stop using your Jedi mind tricks on me, Berry.”

Rachel giggled and pulled into the Lopez driveway. “Trust me, my Jedi mind tricks would have had you in my bed a long time ago. I guess your mind’s too strong for my tricks.”

Santana let out a reluctant chuckle. “And here I thought I was the hottest geek at McKinley.”

“Oh, but you are,” Rachel purred, her voice suddenly closer. “You definitely take that title hands down.”

Santana turned to her and smirked. “Hands down where?”

Rachel’s eyes darkened and she matched Santana’s expression before leaning in and sucking on her bottom lip. Santana closed her eyes and responded to the kiss, letting their tongues twist deliciously with each other.

They both groaned at Santana’s phone ringing.

“ _Si, Mami_?” she answered.

“Santana, you’re fogging up the windows of Rachel’s car. Now come inside and have dinner.”

Santana’s mouth dropped and she just started laughing when her mother hung up.

“What?” Rachel asked in confusion.

“My mom was spying on us and told me to stop fogging up the windows of your car.”

Rachel smiled and leaned forward again. “Well, more fog would mean less prying eyes,” she said seductively.

“Hmmm,” Santana replied, gladly continuing their make out session.

A sharp rap on her window made them both jump and Santana hit her head on the low voice.

“Ow, fuck!” she mumbled, rolling down the window.

“Santa, you suck at keeping things on the down low,” Miguel mocked. “Mom wants you inside now. She’s been worried about you.”

Santana huffed and opened the door. “It’s not like I was the one in fucking hospital, for Christ’s sake.”

She grabbed her bag and shut the door, automatically reaching for Rachel’s hand as she skipped around the car.

“Santana.” Miguel’s tone turned serious. “You really don’t see how much you scared her last week. She thought she’d dealt with all the fights and trips to the hospital with us. I don’t think she expected that you’d be more of a handful than all three of us put together.”

“Miguel, _Mami_ knows that I can take of myself. And I actually did know how worried she was. And I apologised many times for my lack of judgement. I’m not a headcase,” she added quietly.

They reached the front door and Miguel turned around. “I know that, Santa. Out of all of us, you’re the one who’s gonna go places. You’re gonna make something huge of your life because that’s who you are. You can do anything and I think maybe _Mami_ is scared that you won’t need her anymore.”

“But that’s ridiculous!” Santana spluttered. “I’ll always need her.”

“Um, baby, if I may,” Rachel interjected quietly. “Miguel may have a point. Since we got together, you’ve been doing everything with me. And I know that they were things you used to do with your mom. Maybe she just misses you. I mean, I was the one that took care of you last week. Who would normally have done it if I hadn’t been in the picture?”

“My mom,” Santana mumbled, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty for neglecting her mom. She really hadn’t meant to. She’d just kind of gotten wrapped up in Rachel.

Nothing else needed to be said, so Miguel opened the front door and the girls followed him. Santana dropped her bag and headed for the kitchen, ignoring Rachel’s squeals as she was engulfed in hugs from the big Lopez men.

“ _Mami_?” she queried softly, leaning against the wall.

Carmen glanced back from her position at the stove and smiled at her daughter. She turned back to the stove but was facing Santana in a second again.

“Santana, _qué pasa_?” she asked worriedly.

“ _Lo siento, Mami_ ,” Santana whispered. “I’m sorry that I made you worry and that I’ve been spending so much time with Rachel. I…I didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”

“Santana, don’t be silly,” Carmen chastised her, but pulling her close for a gently hug. “I don’t pine when you’re off with your girlfriend. I know you love me and I know that we’ll still have our _damas_ day out.”

“Really?” Santana asked, her brow furrowing. “But Miguel said-“

“Miguel needs to mind his own business,” Carmen said, shaking her head in the direction of the living room. She sighed. “I heard that you went to the hospital today. Is everything okay?”

Santana shook her head and dropped her gaze. “Quinn got hit by a cyclist. She…she got hurt pretty bad.”

“Is it anything serious?” Carmen asked in fear.

Santana shrugged. “Nothing physical.”

Carmen nodded in understanding and pulled her daughter back into her warm embrace. “ _Eres un buen amigo_ , _mija_.”

Santana sighed heavily. “I was scared.” She pulled away. “ _Mami_ , I don’t know if I want to be a doctor,” she whispered. “I’d love to help people, but I think it would be too hard for me. I…I don’t let things go and loss is something that all doctors have to deal with.”

Carmen kissed Santana’s forehead. “Your capacity for caring is wonderful, _mi amor_. I know that whatever you decide to do with your life will make me the proudest mother in the world.”

Santana blinked tears back and hugged her mother tightly.

“ _Te amo, Mami_.”

“ _Te adoro, mija_.”

* * *

Rachel froze when she walked into the kitchen and saw Santana and her mother in a tight embrace. She felt a pull in her chest at the unfamiliar sight. She shook her head of the thoughts that had started to plague her mind of late and softly cleared her throat.

“Hey,” Santana said softly, wiping her eyes.

“I was wondering if you needed help with anything?” Rachel asked timidly. “I feel like I eat here as much as the rest of the family, but I never do anything.”

“That’s because you’re our guest, Rachel,” Carmen replied, smiling warmly at her. Rachel couldn’t help but return it. “But if you’re interested, you can help me with this _pollo al ajillo_.”

“Seriously, _Mami_?” Santana asked excitedly, walking over to the stove. She breathed the aroma deeply and smiled. “Yummy. This is totally my favourite.”

Rachel joined her and agreed that the smell was definitely intoxicating.

“What’s it called again?” she asked in embarrassment.

“ _Pollo al ajillo_ ,” Santana said. “Basically garlic chicken, but my grandmother’s recipe is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“Garlic, huh?” Rachel teased.

“Pffft, like that would stop you,” Santana retorted with a smile.

“Girls,” Carmen warned.

Rachel flushed, but Santana just grinned. Rachel knew that Carmen was completely fine with how open Santana was about her sexuality, but Rachel wasn’t so sure that Santana’s mother wanted to know about her daughter’s sexual appetite.

Which, unfortunately, Rachel had yet to sample. Oh, but she couldn’t wait to. She took Santana’s left hand and used her nail to write the number _20_ on her palm. She didn’t miss the resulting shiver that moved through Santana.

Santana looked at her quizzingly and Rachel simply licked her lips seductively and raised a cocky eyebrow. Santana’s eyes went wide, as did her grin when she realised what Rachel was counting down to. They both smothered their giggles.

“If you two are just going to stand there whispering sweet or not so sweet nothings in each other’s ears instead of helping me then you can go and set the table,” Carmen said, glancing at them with a smirk.

“ _Mami_ , don’t be hating just cos I have way more game than you ever did,” Santana smirked, ducking quickly to avoid a smart slap with the spoon that Carmen was cooking with.

“Santana, I could tell you things that would put you off intimacy for the rest of your life,” Carmen said in an eerily serious voice and it kind of made Rachel think that she probably did have those stories.

“Sure, _Mami_ ,” Santana teased.

“Well, there was this one time in college where I got locked in the steam room with five guys from the football team,” Carmen started.

“Aaaaahhh!” Santana cried, covering her ears. “I’m blind already! Do you have to kill my hearing too? Gross.”

Carmen just chuckled and Rachel winked at her to congratulate her on getting one up on her daughter – it definitely wasn’t an easy feat.

Santana was still muttering to herself as she set the table.

“You’re lucky,” Rachel said softly, following Santana around the table as they placed the cutlery.

“I know,” came Santana’s standard cocky reply.

“I’m serious,” Rachel almost whispered. She wondered if Santana really did realise how lucky she was.

“Baby?” Now her voice was concerned and she was standing in front of her, the cutlery momentarily forgotten. “Rachel, what’s wrong? I know something’s been churning around in that head of yours, but I didn’t want to push you to tell me.”

Rachel took a deep breath. “You haven’t met my dads yet, but they’re amazing. I really feel incredibly fortunate to have two parents that love me like they do.”

“But?” Santana prodded.

Rachel shrugged. “I guess these last few days, seeing you with your mom and the whole Quinn being pregnant thing,” she lowered her voice for the last part, “it made me realise that I’ll never have that. As gay as my dads are, there’s just something about a mother-daughter relationship.”

Santana’s hands wrapped around Rachel’s and she squeezed. “You’re right, Rach,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t trade my mother for anything in the world. I do cherish the relationship I have with her and I know how lucky I am.” She paused. “Have you tried contacting your birth mother?”

Rachel sighed. “My dads kept in touch with her. She was killed when I was six. Some drug thing.”

“Oh,” Santana said sympathetically, grimacing. “Do you have a picture or anything?”

Rachel nodded. “At home.” She sighed again. “I know it’s stupid-“

“It’s not stupid, Rach,” Santana said softly and Rachel couldn’t help how her heart fluttered. As much as she enjoyed playful, sexy Santana, she really liked the soft, romantic, caring side of her.

Rachel shrugged and Santana pulled her into a tight hug.

“You can totally share my mom if you want,” Santana said quietly into her hair and Rachel just held her tighter.

* * *

Brittany looked like shit. She knew she did. She’d hardly got any sleep the previous night and she hated herself for the reason.

She could _not_ stop thinking about Santana. And she wasn’t thinking about all the irritating things that she did (even though they didn’t seem all that irritating anymore). She’d replayed their conversation in the hospital bathroom over and over until it was a running loop in her mind. When Santana had spoken about her family, her eyes had sparkled and Brittany had been mesmerised.

No! Not mesmerised! She was probably just about to cry or something. And we’re supposed to be nice and shit, so I was…concerned. Yup, concerned.

_Pierce, you are so full of shit._

Brittany rolled her eyes and wrapped up the morning practice. Rachel skipped over to her and peered at her.

“Jesus, Britt. You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks _so_ much, Rach. Always good to know that I can count on my best friend to tell me exactly what I _don’t_ want to know.”

”Whatever,” Rachel shrugged. “Did the twins keep you up again?”

Brittany just nodded. It was easier.

“Ugh. Those brats are so irritating,” Rachel mused, walking with her captain back to the locker room. “Aren’t your parents going away to London or something?”

Brittany nodded tiredly. “They leave next Thursday.” She opened her eyes wider. “I wanna have a party next Friday. Big one. Kegs, music, the whole thing. I need a fucking distraction.”

Rachel nodded. “Sure, B. We’ll get everything sorted next week.”

Brittany nodded and watched as her teammates all prepared for their shower. She missed needing to shower in mornings. Yet another reminder that she was completely bored. She wasn’t used to just standing with a megaphone and shouting. She was the best goddamn Cheerio and she always led by example. She hated that she couldn’t.

“Your nose doesn’t look too bad,” Rachel commented, pulling her uniform off.

Brittany shrugged. “There was a little bruising, but I’ve covered it up. The last thing I need is Coach Em on my back about that as well.”

”As well?”

Brittany sighed. “She’s displeased with the effort the squad is or isn’t putting in for the pep assembly in Friday.”

“Our routine is flawless though,” Rachel said in confusion.

“I know,” Brittany replied simply.

“Whatever. That bitch is overdosing on her crazy pills,” Rachel chuckled, throwing a towel around her body and heading for the showers. “See you in Spanish?” she called over her shoulder.

Brittany just nodded. She needed a bed. Spanish class was as good an excuse as any to catch up on some sleep.

* * *

Santana rested her head on Rachel’s shoulder as she listened to Ms. S blab on about something. She was thinking about the fact that she was going to see Quinn after Glee. She knew that things were fine, but she’d been very vague in her texts about how things had gone with her mother. It just made Santana apprehensive.

She smiled as she felt Rachel entwine their fingers. Even though she still sometimes couldn’t believe that she and Rachel Berry were dating, she was so thankful that she’d had been around that last week. She would have absolutely gone off the crazy end if Rachel hadn’t been there to keep her grounded.

She squeezed her hand back and moved her head slightly to place a soft kiss on her girlfriend’s exposed neck.

“Naughty,” Rachel said in a barely there whisper.

“Just how you like me,” Santana replied in an equally low voice.

“Brittany!”

“Hmmm?”

Santana lifted her head and looked to her left and saw Brittany looking very disinterested a few chairs down.

“Have you made any headway on your assignment?”

”For Trig?” Brittany asked with a smirk.

Santana rolled her eyes. She’d love to know what had happened to the Brittany she’d glimpsed in the hospital bathroom the previous day. Now that Brittany she could definitely see herself being friends with. This Brittany was just too…put on.

Santana hated fake people. They were a waste of space in her opinion.

“Brittany, if you’re not going to take Glee Club seriously, then I would suggest that you just leave us now than bring our team dynamic down with your attitude,” Ms. S said firmly.

_Go, Ms. S._

Brittany sighed. “If you must know, I was going to do a duet with Puck, but as you can see, he’s AWOL.”

“I’ll sing with you,” Tina offered. “My solo wasn’t working for me anyway.”

Brittany snorted. “I’m good, Paris Hilton.”

“Brittany.”

Santana jumped at the sharp tone coming from Rachel.

“Oh, God,” Brittany muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t start your shit here,” Rachel hissed, loudly enough for her to hear, sitting in the back row, but not Ms. S. “Puck isn’t here anymore. Who the fuck knows where he is? So your façade is over. Me? I’m gonna stay here because this club is actually really fun and I don’t get judged simply because I wear a red uniform.”

“Although we do judge you on that a little,” Mercedes teased.

Rachel smiled and Santana settled back in her chair. Rachel was turning her on…a lot.

“Of course you’d stay here,” Brittany spat. “Look at the fan-fucking-tastic deal you get converting to Losers R Us.”

“Get out,” Santana said suddenly, her voice low.

“What?” Both Brittany and Rachel looked at her in surprise.

“I tried giving you the benefit of the doubt, Brittany, I really did. I’m sorry, Rachel, but she’s not making any effort to show any kind of appreciation of what you did for her. Any promise that she’s made is pretty much worthless if she can’t even refrain from calling us losers when she loves being here just as much as we do.” Santana took a slow breath, trying to quell her anger. “I know you only came here because you wanted Puck back. So if we’re really just a bunch of losers, then there are two doors that you can choose from.”

“Nice, Rachel,” Brittany snapped, standing up. “Guess I should enlighten Coach Em as to your apparent switch in allegiance.”

“What?” Rachel asked in confusion.

“Don’t blame her,” Santana replied. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that when the two top Cheerios suddenly join Glee, that they don’t have an ulterior motive. You hardly made it difficult to realise, Brittany.”

Brittany just stared incredulously at Santana, her eyes flashing. Santana held her gaze in challenge. She was still keeping her promise to Rachel. She was staying calm, even if her instinct was screaming at her to start round two.

“Brittany, there will always be a place for you here,” Ms. S said quietly.

“God, stop psycho-analysing me!” Brittany shouted, grabbing her bag. “You all are completely nuts! I must have been high when I considered this.”

Santana simply watched as she stalked out of the room. She sighed and leaned her head against the back wall, closing her eyes.

“Well,” Ms. Sylvester began again.

“Sorry, Ms. S, could I just…?” Rachel asked timidly.

Santana opened one eye and simply nodded once when Rachel looked at her. God, why was high school full of so much drama. She could a TV show of this shit and make millions. She grinned to herself. As if. No one would watch a show about a glee club.

She sat up and focused on what Ms. S was saying.

* * *

“Brittany!”

She ignored Rachel’s voice as she stalked to her car. Her head was pounding and all she wanted was to go home and lie down, drowning out the world and get through the rest of this crappy day.

“B, come on! Wait up!”

Brittany unlocked her car and threw her bag inside, sliding in too quickly and wincing at the discomfort.

“Open this goddamn door!” Rachel said sharply.

Brittany gave her a look and Rachel simply went to stand in front of her car, daring her to move forward. She couldn’t go backwards. Brittany groaned loudly in frustration and got out of her car.

“What, Berry? What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“Are you okay?”

Brittany blinked. She hadn’t expected that.

“Of course,” she huffed, recovering. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’ve been shorter than usual with me and one minute your super nice then you’re back to HBIC. It’s like you’re bi-polar or something.”

“Yup, that’s it,” Brittany said, folding her arms across her chest. “Went to a doctor and they diagnosed me. I can’t be held responsible for my personality.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Do you really think that you can bullshit me? I’ve known you since we were eleven, B. You can’t pretend with me. You may not believe it, but you can’t hide anything from me. And I know that your smile since last week came straight from Fake 101.”

Brittany blinked again.

_Shit._

“B, I want you to think that you can talk to me. Whatever’s bothering you, I can handle it. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

“Jesus, I know that, Rachel,” Brittany snapped. “Don’t fucking patronise me.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not patronising you, Brittany,” she said slowly. “But keep pissing me off and I will, just to irritate you.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “Fine, you wanna know what’s wrong? I’m angry. No, actually, I’m fucking _livid_. I can’t train or do _anything_ for another three weeks because of the injuries that _your_ girlfriend gave me. I can’t even run or watch TV for too long. I have splitting headaches all the fucking time and I have to play mommy to my brat brother and sister on the daily. I worked fucking hard to get to the top and what does my best friend do? She gets rid of every perk of being on top. I’m fucking _Head Cheerio_ and I can’t do jack shit.”

She was breathing heavily when she was done and Rachel’s eyes were wide.

“B, why didn’t you-“

“Because you’re never there anymore, Rachel. I don’t even see you at lunch. You’re too busy making goo goo eyes with Santana. It’s sickening.”

Rachel glared. “I know that wasn’t your inner homophobe coming out, Brittany, because best friend or not, I _will_ kick your ass. Yes, I’m gay. Yes, I have a girlfriend and a smokin’ hot one at that. We went through this in middle school. You told me that you had no problem with me being gay. Are you saying you now do?”

“Jesus Christ, Rachel, that’s not what I meant,” Brittany said in exasperation. “I just mean that you two are sickeningly sweet. Like you jumped right out of some fucking romcom or some shit.”

“Oh,” Rachel said, her brows furrowing.

“Whatever,” Brittany sighed. “I’ll go an apologise to Sylvester tomorrow.”

“You’re coming back?” Rachel asked with a smile.

Brittany smiled. “I guess your girlfriend was right about one thing. I do kind of enjoy it. Even if it is super lame.”

She hardly had time to react before Rachel launched herself at her, hugging her tightly.

“Jesus, Berry, I need oxygen!” Brittany said haughtily, but she felt a little warm on the inside. Normally, a fight with Rachel would result in the two of them not speaking for a few days and then one day just pretending it didn’t happen and going back to normal. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the healthiest thing for a friendship. Issues left unresolved were now starting to nip her in the butt.

“Santana seems to be a good influence on you,” she found herself saying.

_What? Brain? Filter? Hello!!! What the fuck??_

“What?” Rachel sounded like she laughed the word.

“Uh, nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“B,’ Rachel said with a tone. “Come on, we just got to the point where you’re telling me stuff. Don’t retreat back into yourself again.”

“There it is again,” Brittany sighed, tugging nervously on her own ponytail. “I dunno, Rach. It’s like since you’ve been with Santana, you’re like…I dunno, more sensitive or whatever. Before you never used to give a shit about why I was in a bad mood.”

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. “She’s been good for me. I’m the first to admit it. And I’m good for her. It’s like we complement each other.”

“Doesn’t hurt that she’s hot, huh?” Brittany teased, clamping her hand over her mouth immediately.

 _Great. Fucking great. Non-existent filter, thank you so fucking much_.

Rachel just laughed. “Anyone with eyes would agree with you, B.”

Brittany smiled in relief.

 _That was close_.

She was glad that she and Rachel were working on an actual friendship. She was. It kinda made her realise how alone she really was. If Rachel weren’t in the picture, who would she have?

No one.

She sighed. No matter what happened, these…feelings or whatever that she had for Santana would stay very deeply buried and hopefully they’d disappear. Not only was Brittany definitely _not_ gay, she would never go after her best friend’s girlfriend. She may be a bitch, but she wasn’t that much of a bitch.

“We should do something this weekend!” Rachel said.

“Like what?”

“I dunno, go to a spa or something. I bet you could use a hot stone massage.”

“Now that you mention it,” Brittany mused, smiling. “That sounds absolutely amazing.”

“Awesome!” Rachel said, grinning. “So, B…are we good?”

Brittany smiled, a real genuine smile. “Yeah. We’re good.”

She opened her car door and slid in, pulling it closed behind her. She saw Rachel frown at her and rolled her window down.

“It’s been a pretty shit day for me, Rach. I’m just gonna go home and sleep. And maybe take five pain tablets.”

She chuckled at Rachel’s wide-eyed expression. “Relax, Berry. I won’t _actually_ do that. I’d miss me too much.”

She winked at Rachel and started her car. She headed out and started fiddling with the radio. A familiar song came on and she listened quietly to the lyrics as they echoed around her car. She felt her heart tug a little and she realised that she’d just found her song for the glee assignment.

* * *

Santana took a deep breath as Rachel pulled up outside the Fabray’s house.

“You gonna be okay?” Rachel asked quietly.

Santana simply nodded.

”You’d better call me if something happens,” Rachel warned in a teasing tone, but Santana could detect the underlying seriousness.

“I will,” she said softly.

“Hey, I’m sure she’s fine,” Rachel said soothingly.

Santana nodded again. “I’ll let you know when I get home, okay?”

Rachel smiled and leaned in for a brief kiss. “I’ll call you later.”

Santana took a deep breath and stepped out of the Thunderbird. She glanced behind her as she walked up to the Fabray’s front door and saw Rachel waiting patiently. She offered an encouraging wave and it made Santana smile a little.

God, I feel like I’m on a fucking first date! I practically grew up here! What the hell is my problem?

She rang the doorbell and immediately heard the click of Fiona’s heels across the marble floor. Quinn hated how her parents flaunted their wealth in the most materialistic of things.

“Santana!” Fiona said warmly, opening her arms to hug her.

Santana returned the embrace and stepped inside, turning momentarily to blow Rachel a kiss before the front door closed behind her.

“Santana, I wonder if I could have a word before you see Quinn?”

_Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Fuck!_

“Sure,” Santana replied, trying to stay calm.

They sat down on the ridiculously uncomfortable sofa and Santana squirmed.

“Santana, I trust you implicitly. You’ve been Quinn’s best friend for years and you’ve spent a lot of time here so I know that you’ll give me an honest answer when I ask you…”

She trailed off and Santana swallowed.

“Did you know?” Fiona finally asked.

Ooh, careful, she’s trying to trick you.

Santana knew Fiona Fabray’s tricks. Her mother had tried using open ended and vague questions to get her to admit to things she wouldn’t normally, but Santana wasn’t stupid.

“Did I know what, Fiona?” Santana replied, looking confused.

“Did you know that she was seeing that…Jewish boy?” Fiona asked, her lip curling.

Santana sighed internally. How a pair of pretentious snobs like the Fabrays could have produced someone as amazing as Quinn would forever astound her.

“I didn’t actually,” Santana replied honestly. “I think it was more a passing thing than anything serious. He’s a bit of an ass.”

“Hmmm,” was all Fiona said.

Santana waited for the inevitable follow up question, her heart rate increasing steadily as the seconds ticked by.

Eventually, she just jumped in. “Um, could I go and see Quinn? Some juicy business went down in Glee today and I bet she’d love to hear about it.”

Santana knew the way to Fiona Fabray’s heart.

“Oh, yes, of course, dear,” she replied brightly. “I’m sure the club is suffering terribly in her absence.”

“You have no idea,” Santana gushed, standing up. “I bet she misses it just as much.”

Santana flew up the stairs and slipped into Quinn’s room, closing the door quietly behind her.

“I’d give you nine for effort,” Quinn’s voice piped from her bed.

“Damn!” Santana sighed, snapping her fingers. “So close to that ten.” She grinned and fell onto the bed next to her Quinn. “Hey, friendling.”

“Hi,” Quinn replied softly.

“How are you?” Santana asked, searching her eyes keenly. She could always tell what Quinn was feeling when she looked into her eyes.

“Sore,” she admitted. “My whole body feels like it’s aching.”

“I can give you a massage?” Santana offered.

Quinn chuckled. “I’m not that sore. Besides, you give the hardest massages. They’re borderline painful.”

“They need to be hard, otherwise you don’t release the tension in the muscles and it’ll just build-“

“Shut up,” Quinn interrupted softly, but not in a mean way.

Santana smiled and promptly shut her trap.

“I told my mom,” Quinn whispered.

Santana scooted closer to her.

“She just gave me this look of complete disappointment.” Quinn fought a sob rising in her throat and Santana grabbed her hand tightly. “She said that fate played a good hand, taking my baby away from me.”

Santana grimaced. She knew Fiona was hard-assed, but that was just downright cruel.

“My father told me never to be so stupid again,” Quinn mumbled, the tears starting to flow down her cheeks.

“Quinnie, I’m so sorry,” Santana whispered. “Do you want to come and stay with me?”

Quinn smiled, despite her tears. “You do realise that there is no way my parents are letting me out of this house unless it’s to go to school and dancing, right?” She shrugged. “But thanks for the offer, San.”

“Sure,” Santana replied easily. “You know our door is always open.”

Quinn nodded. “So, anything interesting happen today?”

“Hmmm, Brittany and I had another showdown,” Santana replied casually, looking thoughtful.

“What?” Quinn exclaimed, her cheeks tinged pink – a sure sign she was getting angry. “Santana, after everything-“

“Relax, Quinnie,” Santana interrupted her, chuckling. “I was perfectly calm. Brittany hasn’t been keeping up her part of the deal so I called her on it and she didn’t have a comeback. She walked out, but Rachel convinced her to stay.”

“Is it worth it?” Quinn asked, frowning.

Santana shrugged. “She’s an okay singer and it’s not like if she leaves, Rachel leaves, so…”

“Yeah, she’s there purely for the music,” Quinn teased.

“Ha!” Santana scoffed. “I play a great tune and she loves it.”

“Ugh, why do I feel like there was some sexual innuendo hidden in there somewhere?” Quinn asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Not this time,” Santana replied, smiling. She sighed. “Nineteen days of torture.”

“You’re actually counting down the days?” Quinn asked in surprise.

“Uh, duh. You know how bad it is now. And we’re not even having sex.”

“Oh, fun,” Quinn said dryly. “Watching you and Rachel suck each other’s faces off just doesn’t sound as appealing to me as it does to you, I’m afraid.”

“Well good,” Santana replied with a twinkle in her eyes. “Cos I don’t share very nicely.”

Quinn chuckled. “You are such a dork.”

”And you love me,” Santana grinned.

“Unfortunately.”

”Hey!”

Quinn giggled and rested her head on Santana’s shoulder. “I miss you, San. We don’t ever do anything anymore.”

“Truth,” Santana replied. “Maybe if you’re feeling up to it this weekend, Rachel told me that she and Brittany are going to have a spa day on Saturday. I think it sounds like fun. Maybe we should have one too.”

“A spa day?” Quinn asked, looking at Santana sceptically.

“Yes,” Santana replied slowly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Just wondering if you haven’t got Rachel hidden somewhere in you.”

Santana laughed and dropped her head into her friend’s shoulder this time. “I think we could use the relaxation. Hot stone massages, cucumber and avocado facials. Hmmm, I’m hungry now.”

Quinn chuckled. “Always thinking with your stomach.”

“Hey, doing nothing for a week totally works up your appetite!” Santana protested. “You’re lucky you have me to learn from. I could hand you all my secrets to getting everyone in this house waiting for you on hand and foot.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “You forget, I already have a frigging full-time maid and now my mother wants me to have a live-in fucking nurse. I swear, she thinks I got hit by a bus.”

“She’s worried,” Santana said softly, momentarily reminded of her and Rachel’s conversation the previous day.

“She only gets ‘worried’ when her precious dream is in jeopardy,” Quinn replied, using air quotes.

“Quinnie, if you don’t want to be a performer anymore, then tell them. You shouldn’t do what your parents want you to do.”

Quinn eyed her. “Just checking, but you have met my parents, right? There is no way in hell they’re going to let me give up their dream.”

Santana shrugged. “Look, we’re only sophomores, so we have a while to think about it.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Quinn asked. “You’ve wanted to be a doctor since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” Santana replied, playing with her fingers.

“Oh?”

Santana brushed it off. “Another time.” She sat up. “Play by play of what went down in Glee today.” She paused, looking around.

Quinn smiled. “What are you looking for?”

“Popcorn. This is a story of such epic proportions that popcorn will be required.”

She bounded off the bed and ran downstairs, the ring of Quinn’s laughter echoing. Santana grinned.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: This is an explicit multi-pairing fic. It's angsty, it's waaaaay off the beaten track. These characters are not the same characters in the show, even though it's the same setting.

Brittany couldn’t understand why she was nervous. She was fucking Head Cheerio! She’d been interviewed on ESPN and graced the cover of _Cheerleader_ a record four times!

Why the hell was she nervous about singing a stupid song?

_Because people don’t know this about you. Only Rachel knows. And this would put you out there big time._

Ugh, fucking know-it-all conscience. If this song was going to make her appear vulnerable, then why the hell was she even doing it? What was the point? It wasn’t like the group actually _meant_ anything to her.

_Ha! Bullshit._

She really hated her conscience.

* * *

“Quinnie, are you sure about this?” Santana asked worriedly.

“Jesus, San, you sound like my mother,” Quinn replied, rolling her eyes.

“Well, it’s only been two days,” Santana tried to protest, but Quinn cut her off.

“Santana, I’m fine. Physically, I’m okay. Mentally, maybe not right now, but I’ll get there. Staying at home for the rest of the week with no one but my mother and the private nanny and nurse? _That_ would very detrimental to my mental wellbeing.”

Santana simply nodded, knowing that Quinn had made up her mind. And she believed her if she said she was okay. Quinn wasn’t stupid enough to subject herself to a torturous day of high school with stares and smirks if she didn’t think she could handle it.

“I’ll be there the whole time,” she promised, linking their fingers and squeezing.

Quinn let out a chuckle. “Is your girlfriend going to let you?” she teased.

Santana huffed. “We’re not attached at the hip, Quinnie.”

“Uh huh,” Quinn replied knowingly, seeing Rachel standing outside the front doors of their high school chatting to some other Cheerios.

Santana rolled her eyes and stepped out her car. For the first time since her accident, her mom had let her drive her own car to school. She’d begged after finding out that Quinn planned to return that day. She wanted to fetch her and be a good friend.

“You’re a good friend, San,” Quinn said quietly as they made their way towards the school.

Santana just smiled. It didn’t surprise her anymore that Quinn could tell what she was thinking.

“You’re my best friend, Quinn,” she said sincerely. “I’ll do whatever I need to make sure that you’re okay.”

Quinn smiled. “I have no doubt.”

They approached the group of cheerleaders and Santana caught Rachel’s eye with a wink. Rachel grinned and stepped outside her group for a soft kiss before tapping Santana’s ass smartly and going back to her friends.

“See?” Santana said triumphantly, continuing into the school. “We can totally survive without each other.”

“Uh huh, and I’m sure the heavy make out session you guys will probably squeeze in before first period has nothing to do with you settling for a simple kiss, does it?”

Santana rolled hr eyes and grinned. “I can’t help it that my girlfriend is super sexy and I can’t control myself when I’m around her.”

“Actually, yes you can!” Quinn laughed, stopping at her locker. “It’s called restraint.”

Santana leaned against the locker next to Quinn’s as she gathered her books. She looked thoughtful. “Can’t say I’ve ever come across this foreign word.”

“Well, that’s pretty obvious,” Quinn laughed.

Santana grinned. “Come on, friendling. Let’s go and see Ms. S. Maybe you and I can do a duet for this week’s assignment.”

Quinn linked their arms. “But you’ve already sung, San.”

“Psssh, like I need an excuse to sing again,” she said with a wink.

“Hey, sexy!” a familiar voice called from behind them.

Santana and Quinn turned to see Rachel sauntering towards them with a knowing smirk on her face. Santana grinned.

“Eighteen more days, Lopez,” Rachel purred as she walked past.

“Oh my God,” Santana breathed, her eyes fixed on the sway of Rachel’s hips as she strutted away.

“Jesus,” Quinn chuckled. “Drool alert.”

Santana clamped her mouth closed, not even aware that it had fallen on the floor.

”Ugh, stupid ribs,” she groaned, looking down at her stomach. “My own body is twatswatting me. How messed up is that?”

She sounded so forlorn that Quinn couldn’t stop from letting out another laugh. “San, you’re totally smitten with her. I’ve never seen you like this.”

Santana blushed and pushed her glasses up her nose. “It’s weird, right?” she muttered. “She’s like my kryptonite or something. Anything I do, she has the perfect comeback.”

“Hmmm, seems like you’ve met your match.”

Santana grinned.

* * *

“You okay?”

Brittany nodded and sent a smile in Rachel’s direction. She was sitting at the Cheerios table for the first time since going public with her relationship with Santana.

“You don’t have to sit with us,” she said. “I’m sure you’d rather be with Santana.”

Rachel simply smiled. “I know. But you got me thinking yesterday. Sure, I love spending time with San, but I’ve neglected you, whether consciously or subconsciously, and I should’ve seen how hard things have been for you. So I’m making a conscious effort to split my time between the two of you better.”

Brittany just smiled.

They played around with the stuff that Coach Em passed off as food on their plates in a comfortable silence until Brittany broke it again. Her pain meds must have her on a trip.

_You’re not taking pain meds anymore._

_Shut up._

“You know, you shouldn’t have to split your time. Between me and Santana, I mean. I did promise that I would try and be nice to her, which I guess I haven’t really done.”

“B, it’s okay,” Rachel said softly. “You’ve had a lot of shit going on.”

Brittany shrugged, still keeping her voice low enough so that her squad members wouldn’t hear their conversation. It was bad enough that her perks had been taken away as the top dog. She didn’t need for them to find out that she actually had feelings and shit.

“That’s not really the point. You’ve done a lot for me and it’s about time I was a friend to you like you’ve been to me. Which means making nice with your girlfriend.”

Rachel must’ve seen the pained expression on her face and sent her a dazzling smile.

“Britt, I can’t tell you how much that means to me, really. Thank you.”

“Meh,” Brittany replied nonchalantly. “So maybe we should all do something together or something. Like…I dunno. Whatever.”

Rachel giggled. “You’re so bad at this. But I appreciate that you’re trying. Well, we’ve got our spa day on Saturday. Why don’t we see of she and Quinn want to come with?”

“Quinn too?”

She hadn’t really counted on that. She was still a little sore about Queen Quinn stealing Puck right out from underneath her nose. She was Brittany fucking Pierce, for Christ’s sake.

“They’re best friends,” Rachel explained.

“I know,” Brittany snapped, immediately berating herself. “Sorry. Baby steps, Rach.” She sighed. “How about we start with Santana, okay?”

Rachel nodded in understanding. Brittany started to feel a little panicky at all the niceness so she turned to the squad.

“Girls, practice for an hour after school. Coach Em is less than pleased with your half-assed attempts at a basic routine. She wants it down pat for Friday’s pep assembly. No arguments,” she added glaring around the table as a few girls dared to open their mouths to protest.

“B, what about Glee?” Rachel whispered.

“Glee’s two hours. That’s why I only made practice one hour.”

The grin on Rachel’s face made her realise that the short reprieve of niceness actually wasn’t a reprieve at all.

_Ugh. What has this fucking Glee Club done to me?_

* * *

“Right, we need to start thinking about our set list for Sectionals,” Ms. S said, bringing the group to order after an hour of messing around and randomly singing whatever songs they wanted.

“I call dibs on a solo,” Mercedes declared. “I only got one last year, Ms. S. Quinn got like fifty.”

”Don’t be ridiculous, Mercedes,” Quinn huffed. “We didn’t even sing fifty songs in competitions last year.’

“Oh, lordy,” Santana mumbled.

“Quinn, I know you got hurt and all, but don’t you think that it’s time you let someone else share the spotlight?” Mercedes bit back.

“Ladies, ladies, I have a solution to this problem,” Ms. S said, holding up her hands.

“Mud wrestling?”

“Jesus, Karofsky,” Santana snapped. “Douchebag, much?”

“Language, Santana,” Ms. S chided. “And Dave, less vulgar comments, if you please.”

The large senior just grinned.

“Um, hi. Is this the Glee Club?”

The entire room looked to the door and saw a blonde guy with the biggest lips _ever_ , wearing way too much hair gel and a bowtie. Also, his pants were about two inches too short.

Santana just smiled. _Wow, this guy screams gay louder than I do._

“Uh, yes. And you are?”

“I’m Sam Evans,” he said, smiling and walking in. “I just transferred. I was wondering if you had room for me in your club?”

“Well, seeing as how Puck’s deserted us, most definitely,” Ms. S said with a smile.

Santana felt Quinn stiffen next to her at the mention of Puck’s name and she simply grabbed her hand and squeezed. The reciprocal squeeze made her breathe a little easier.

“So, Trouty Mouth, can you sing?”

“Mercedes, did you wake up on the wrong side of your prison cell this morning?” Santana teased.

“Bite me, Lopez.”

“Sorry, you’re not my type,” she chuckled back.

“I should hope so,” a familiar voice said from the doorway. “I wouldn’t want to have to beat you down, Mercedes.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see a midget like you try, Berry,” Mercedes retorted, but a smile crossed her face.

“Hey, baby,” Santana greeted, leaning up for a kiss.

Rachel pecked her lips and say down on the empty chair next to her, immediately interlocking their fingers.

“B, there’s a spot here,” Rachel called.

Santana’s eyes met Brittany’s and she was surprised to get a small smile from her as she stepped up to take a seat next to Rachel.

_Hmmm. That’s progress._

“Back to business,” Ms. S in exasperation. “Sam, welcome to New Directions. As you can see, we’re a close-knit bunch who can’t be bothered to stay on point for more than two minutes.”

“I totally stayed on point for three minutes and fifty-two seconds yesterday,” Santana chirped, earning chuckles around the room.

“Well, this is the most comfortable I’ve felt since I got here,” Sam confessed with a guppy grin. “This town is…”

“Close-minded?” Santana supplied.

“Naïve?” Rachel said.

“Vindictive?” Quinn added.

“Crazy,” Mercedes laughed.

“Actually, I was just going to say different,” Sam chuckled. “But I guess, yeah. It’s not easy to be different here.”

“Preach,” Tina said.

“T, you’re not black. Don’t make me go all Lima Heights on yo’ ass,” Mercedes snapped, but there was no malice in her tone.

“Oh, Mercedes, leave the rich girl. If she wants to be black, let her buy all of Rihanna’s albums and braid her hair and learn hip-hop. Next week she’ll be back to her normal self,” Santana said, grinning. She thrived on pushing her friend’s buttons.

“Santana, I’m about two seconds away from beating yo’ ass.”

“Mercedes, we discussed this on Monday,” Santana replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “If I have to get into another fight, you’ll have to endure another week without my awesomeness, Ms. S will assign us Accountability for our next assignment and then I’ll rock out Adam Levine again and-“

“Baby, shut up,” Rachel said with a smile.

“K.”

“Damn, Berry! Where can I get some of that mojo?”

Everyone laughed.

“See what I mean?” Ms. S said with a smile, indicating her misfit group of singers.

“I think it’s awesome,” Sam replied softly.

“So, where’s this song we were promised?” Quinn asked, trying to get things back on track.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if I’d even have a shot of getting in, so I didn’t really prepare anything.”

“Oh, honey, there ain’t no waiting list for this club. Really, we’ll take all the voices we can get,” Tina said.

Santana saw Mercedes roll her eyes at Tina’s faux ghetto attempt.

“Well, anything you can sing off pat?” Ms. S asked. “It doesn’t have to be anything long. We just want to hear if you can sing.”

“Um, okay, sure. I was working on a duet with one of the girls at my old school. Maybe I could just sing that?”

“We’ll help you out,” Santana said with a smile, gesturing to the back row.

“Okay,” Sam smiled again.

 _Damn, those lips are really distracting_.

Sam picked up one of the acoustic guitars and started strumming.

_“Do you hear me?_ _I’m talking to you. Across the water, across the deep blue ocean, under the open sky. Oh my, baby I'm trying_ _.”_

Santana grinned and she, Quinn and Rachel jumped into the second verse.

_“Boy I hear you in my dreams, I feel your whisper across the sea. I keep you with me in my heart. You make it easier when life gets hard.”_

She glanced at Brittany who looked uncomfortable and wasn’t singing. She brushed it off as everyone joined in for the chorus. They harmonised the rest of the song and provided backup vocals as Sam finished off with a strum of the chords.

“Well, that was very impressive, Sam,” Ms. S congratulated him.

“Thanks. Uh, thanks for joining in. That was pretty cool.”

Santana shrugged. “S’what we do.”

Rachel chuckled and squeezed her hand.

“So what do we say?” Ms. S asked everyone.

“Well, I dunno. I mean, maybe he can sing, but can the boy dance?”

Everyone turned to look in surprise at Brittany. She looked just as surprised that the words had come from her mouth.

“Uh, well, I don’t know about dancing, but I can hold a beat and do a few moves.”

“Oooh, idea!” Santana said suddenly, sitting up. “Brittany, can you dance?”

Brittany scoffed, sounding more like the Brittany they were used to.

“No, I know you _can_ , but I mean, are you able to. You know, with your injuries?”

Brittany shrugged. “They don’t hurt as much as they did on Monday.”

“What happened?”

Sam’s whisper was probably supposed to be soft, but everyone heard it.

“Well, Santana and Brittany have somewhat of a hate-less hate relationship,” Tina began. “They kind of had a smackdown here last week.”

“Thanks, T,” Santana said, rolling her eyes. To Sam, she added, “We beat each other up, got it out of our system and are now moving forward.”

Sam nodded and Santana turned back to Brittany. “Quinn and I have a number we’d like to perform and you could maybe throw in some choreography while we’re singing and see if Sam can keep up?” There was silence. “It was just an idea,” she added quietly, feeling like an idiot.

It wasn’t something she was used to feeling and she definitely didn’t like it.

“Sure.”

Santana looked up. “Yeah?”

Brittany nodded.

“Okay. Quinnie?”

They stood up and they walked to where Sam was standing.

“To be formal and such, I’m Santana, this is Quinn and Brittany and that smokin’ piece of ass is Rachel.”

“You make me sound like a hooker,” Rachel laughed.

Santana grinned and gave her sultry look. “Then we have Mercedes, Tina, Dave, Lauren, Jacob and Brad. He doesn’t say much, though.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Sam said with a smile. “You seem to be a little short on numbers, though?” he ventured.

“Well, we always make a plan for competitions,” Ms. S stepped in. “Finn Hudson always joins us for competitions to spice up our dancing.”

”Wait, _Finn Hudson_?” Brittany asked incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Yup,” Santana confirmed. “He’s a good dancer.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Brittany replied, smirking.

Santana rolled her eyes. “Moving along swiftly. Sam, follow Brittany. Quinnie and are about to get our Freddie Mercury on.”

”Oh, hell yeah!” Dave said with a grin. He fist-pumped Lauren.

Santana grinned and pointed at the band. She and Quinn were so used to performing together that they’d only needed to run through the song once during lunch.

Quinn stepped forward and started the first verse softly, the piano playing soon after she started singing.

_“Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time. I feel alive and the world turning inside out, yeah! And floating around in ecstasy…”_

Santana stepped forward and joined in, grinning at Quinn.

_“So don't stop me now, don't stop me. Cos' I'm having a good time, having a good time.”_

Santana could see in her peripheral vision that Brittany was going through a few dance steps with Sam as the tempo of the song picked up. She took centre stage and belted out the second verse.

_“I'm burning through the sky, yeah! Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit. I'm travelling at the speed of light. I wanna make a supersonic girl out of you.”_

Santana pointed to Rachel, who winked and clapped her hands in time to the beat. Quinn joined in. Quinn took over the second verse and Santana stepped back, slipping into the easy routine was running through with Sam. She loved the rush of performing, but doing things spontaneously just added to her energy.

Santana faced Quinn as they sang the bridge to each other.

_“Don't stop me, don't stop me. Don't stop me, hey, hey, hey! Don't stop me, don't stop me, oooh oooh oooh (I like it).”_ _  
_

Santana harmonised the last bit of the song and watched as Sam attempted a moonwalk. Brittany just laughed and showed him how it was done. Santana was impressed. She knew Brittany could dance, but she was really versatile.

The performers bowed to a standing ovation.

“Wow, girls, I’m seriously impressed. I think that could definitely be a potential candidate for one of our Sectional numbers,” Ms. S said with a smile.

“You okay with that, Mercedes?” Quinn asked.

The diva shrugged. “Y’all were okay.”

“Okay? They _killed_ it! You were awesome,” Rachel gushed.

Santana laughed at her enthusiasm.

“I have to agree with Rachel, but Quinn, I’m confused as to how this song pertains to the assignment this week,” Ms. S queried.

“Well, we’re not saying ‘screw accountability, we’re gonna do what we want anyway’, we’re saying something along the lines of ‘we know we messed up, but we love what we’re doing’.” Quinn grimaced. “Ugh, that didn’t even make sense. I promise it sounded better in my head.”

“It’s okay, Quinn. I think I understand what you mean. It’s a little abstract, but the performance was great. Brittany, I hope you’ll allow us to use those very impressive dancing skills?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, if you want to.”

“Maybe she and Finn could do a routine?” Rachel suggested. “They’d look really great together, I think.”

“Excellent suggestion, Rachel,” Ms. S said, beaming. “Brittany, once you’ve done your song, maybe we can talk more about it?”

“Sure.”

Santana took her seat and glanced at Brittany. She wondered what song she was going to sing. Santana had been a little facetious with her song choice on Monday and she wondered what stance Brittany would take.

“Um, Ms. Sylvester, I’m not so sure that I’m ready to sing today,” Brittany suddenly said.

“Why not, Brittany? You seemed pretty eager this morning?”

“Yeah…” she trailed off.

“Ms. S, could we have a minute?” Rachel asked.

She nodded and Santana watched as Rachel led Brittany out of the choir room. She looked…nervous. Brittany Pierce, Head Cheerio and HBIC _nervous_? What the hell did she have to be nervous about? She was popular and everyone knew her. She had nothing to hide. If she did, people would’ve found out by now. That was the price of popularity.

* * *

“Jesus, I can’t do this, Rachel! I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me lately, but I’m making these decisions and saying these things and thinking _really_ bad thoughts and I feel like I’m losing control of who I am!”

“B, calm down. Breathe,” Rachel said quietly.

She had rarely seen her best friend honest-to-God freak out like she was at the moment. The last time had been back at their cabin after Coach Em had given her the captaincy.

“Hey, B. You know who you are?”

Brittany blinked.

“You’re Brittany Pierce. Fierce Pierce. Singing is cake for you. Nothing scares you because you _know_ who you are. You’re a brilliant captain, the best this squad has seen in a long time, you’re the sexiest dancer I have _ever_ seen, and no I’m really not hitting on you. You’re hot, you’re popular and you rule this school. You can do anything.”

She saw the effect that her little pep talk had on Brittany and she breathed a sigh of relief. Having Brittany open up to her like she had was awesome but having never really dealt with an emotional Brittany before, she wasn’t always sure how to react. So far, it seemed like she was doing okay.

“I’m Brittany fucking Pierce,” she said firmly. “Jesus, I’m losing my fucking mind.” She let out a humourless laugh.

Rachel just grinned. “You ready?”

Brittany nodded.

* * *

Brittany rolled her eyes at her mini breakdown. Screw all this shit going on in her head. Regardless, she was Fierce Pierce. Clearly, she just needed to remind herself of that fact.

The song she’d chosen was definitely soul-bearing and probably would make the Glee Club curious, but fuck that. She was capable of feeling shit. And honestly? She felt like she wouldn’t actually be judged by the bunch of oddities.

She took a deep breath and followed Rachel back into the choir room. She wasn’t actually surprised to see Santana doing a handstand again.

“Santana Lopez, don’t make me call your mother,” Rachel warned.

“Jesus, calm down,” Santana laughed, straightening up. “I wouldn’t have done it if it hurt, Rach.”

Brittany couldn’t see her best friend’s face but could only imagine that she was rolling her eyes. Santana definitely seemed like a handful.

“Brittany, are you ready now?”

She nodded and pulled out a stool from next to the piano.

“I know that I was the one that started the fight last week,” she began, startling everyone, especially Santana. “I guess the song I chose doesn’t excuse what I did, but maybe it’ll help you guys understand why? I dunno.” She cleared her throat.

_Fierce Pierce. Here we go._

She closed her eyes and let the opening chords run through her. She’d never practised so much for anything in her life. Her heart started beating a little faster as she opened her mouth.

_“All around me are familiar faces. Worn out places, worn out faces. Bright and early for their daily races, going nowhere, going nowhere. Their tears are filling up their glasses, no expression, no expression. Hide my head, I want to drown my sorrow. No tomorrow, no tomorrow.”_

She opened her eyes and saw admiration on the faces in front of her. She saw Rachel’s proud smile and encouraging nod of her head. Unwittingly, her eyes drifted to Santana, who had a curious glint her eye, her teeth nibbling slightly on her bottom lip as though she was trying to figure out Brittany’s reason for singing the song.

_“And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad. The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had. I find it hard to tell you. I find it hard to take when people run in circles. It's a very, very mad world, mad world.”_ _  
_

Brittany took a deep breath once ending the last note. There was silence before Santana spoke up.

“I don’t care what anyone else says, but _that_ has to be our opening number for Sectionals. Just like that.”

Brittany’s eyes widened in surprise at everyone nodding enthusiastically. She met Santana’s dark eyes and she gave her a genuine smile.

“That was amazing, Brittany,” Ms. S said sincerely. “Thank you for showing us what you’re capable of.”

“Um, sure,” she mumbled, walking back to her chair.

“B, I’m so proud of you,” Rachel whispered.

She gave her a small smile.

“Brittany, I can’t even describe how amazing that was.”

_Say what? Queen Quinn?_

“Look, I know we probably would never have spoken if not for He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but I’m really glad you joined Glee Club. You and Rachel have really upped our chances at Sectionals this year.”

“Geez, just say that she did a great job, Quinnie,” Santana teased. “It’s like a backhand compliment.”

“I was just being honest,” Quinn said in a hurt voice.

“Thanks,” Brittany said quickly. “Um, yeah.”

She sat back in her chair and kept her expression neutral.

Fierce Pierce.

_You are the HBIC. Don’t fucking forget that. So you like to sing and dance with these kids. Big effing deal. Remember where your priorities are._

Fierce Pierce.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That M rating starts ramping up right about now. You have been warned. I've also written two new chapters for this story which was a lot of fun :)

“You ready, Quinnie?” Santana asked, glancing up at her.

Quinn adjusted her cute sundress and smiled, nodding. “Thanks for doing this, San,” she mused quietly as the made their way downstairs.

“Time for some kick back relax time with my bestie,” Santana replied with a wink. “Long overdue.”

She was rewarded with a warm smile.

“ _Buenos dias, Mami_ ,” Santana called as she walked past the living room.

“Hi, girls,” Carmen called back. “You two are up early.”

“Santana’s treating me to a spa day.”

“Oh, is my daughter starting to realise that there’s someone else in this world besides Rachel?”

“Shut up,” Santana retorted good-naturedly. “We’ve been totally better this week, right, Quinnie?”

“Yeah, we only had to break them up…” she trailed off as she mentally counted in her head, “…thirteen times this week.”

“Har har,” Santana muttered, rolling her eyes as her mother laughed heartily.

“Have you told her?” Quinn asked Santana.

“Told me what?” Carmen asked, her interest piqued.

Santana glared at Quinn, who just smiled widely. It was a game they often played. She sighed and turned to her mother. “I’m having dinner at Rachel’s house tomorrow. I’m meeting her dads.”

Carmen grinned. “Well, this is cause for a celebration. My daughter has finally found someone who has hung around long enough to subject her parents to her wrath.”

“ _Gracias, Mami_ ,” Santana said sarcastically. “ _Su apoyo es abrumador._ ”

“She loves to dish it out, but can’t take it,” Carmen teased.

Quinn chuckled and Santana stuck out her tongue.

“Okay, we’re going now. Any more derogatory comments you wish to make, Mother?”

“Oooh, _Mother_. She’s bringing out the big guns.”

Carmen and Quinn laughed again and Santana glared at them. It was bad enough that her brothers teased her mercilessly, and she had to take it from her mother and best friend? Hell fucking no.

“Well, seeing as how you two seem to having such a great time laughing at me, I’ll go and get myself a deep tissue massage from a really hot European blonde masseuse and I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

“Shut up, loser, I’m coming,” Quinn said, still chuckling.

“Have fun, ladies,” Carmen sang as Santana pulled the door closed behind her, perhaps a little louder than intended.

“Relax, San. You know we’re just teasing you.”

“Whatever,” Santana grumbled. “Why is it the world’s biggest fucking joke that I have a girlfriend, though?”

“Um, probably because you’ve never been this serious with anyone before?” Quinn replied, opening the passenger door to Santana’s car. “Your last three relationships consisted of weekly hook-ups. This is a definite improvement. And besides, they wouldn’t be your family if they didn’t tease you. It’s part of the Lopez DNA or something.”

Santana grinned and started the car. She couldn’t really deny that.

* * *

Rachel smiled at the lady behind the desk as she arranged the appointments for her and Brittany’s day at _Holly’s Holliday House_. Holly was a good friend of her dads.

“Thanks, hot stuff,” Holly said with a grin.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “You’re not in high school anymore, Holly,” she teased. “Stop trying to be like the cool kids.”

“Ouch, that stung, Rach. You wound me with your vicious, vicious words.”

“She learnt from the best,” Brittany said behind her.

“Indeed. Miss Brittany Pierce, ladies and gents. The first bitch to ever grace the halls of McKinley,” Holly said with a smirk.

“Hey, let us know when it’s senior citizen day again and we’ll promise to help you up the stairs,” Brittany retorted, a matching smirk on her face.

“Damn,” Rachel and Holly said, breaking into chuckles.

“Sounds like someone had a nice tall glass of bitch this morning,” Rachel teased.

“Always start off my day with something healthy,” Brittany replied with a wink.

“All right, girls,” Holly said, glancing down at her book. “We’ve got you down for hot stone massages first thing, then some sauna down time and then the full mani/pedi/facial combo after. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Rachel said with a grin.

Her phoned chimed and she clicked open the new message from Santana.

Hey sexy. Q and I are ten minutes away. See you in the sauna. xxx

Rachel took a sharp intake of breath. God, she really couldn’t wait another fourteen days. She was aching to feel Santana and she knew the feeling was mutual.

“Lover girl?” Brittany asked curiously.

“Yup. She’s almost here. But she and Quinn are gonna do their own thing. If we cross paths then we do, but today is about you and me and her and Quinn. It’s a best friend day.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “God, she really has warped your brain.”

“We could always go if you don’t feel like a best friend day.”

“I didn’t say that,” Brittany said quickly and Rachel smiled smugly.

“Ladies, Jesse will direct you to your massages,” Holly said.

“Holy crap!” Brittany said out loud before clamping a hand over her mouth.

Rachel, Holly and Jesse looked at her curiously.

“Sorry,” she said with a laugh. “He totally looks like our principal’s son, is all.”

Rachel burst out laughing. “He totally does!”

“Is that a compliment?” Jesse asked worriedly.

Brittany and Rachel looked at each other and frowned.

“Ummm,” Brittany mumbled.

“Massages?” Holly asked brightly.

“Yes, please,” Rachel said, thankful for the alleviation in tension. “Filter much?” she hissed at Brittany, who simply shrugged.

* * *

Brittany thanked the tall blonde German guy who had done her massage and wrapped the towel around her. Her fluffy white robe was hanging off the hook behind the door.

“Rach, you want me to wait for you?” she asked.

Rachel had requested a deep tissue massage as well so hers was taking a little longer than Brittany’s. She waved her hand in decline.

“Go have fun, B,” she mumbled, groaning in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Brittany smiled and rolled her eyes. Not having done much physical activity for two weeks meant that her muscles were actually quite relaxed. She hated deep tissue massages anyway. They always hurt so goddamn much.

“Heya, Blondie,” Holly greeted as Brittany stepped out of the room. “Where to now?”

“Maybe the sauna?” she suggested, shrugging her shoulders. “I dunno. Rachel’s still busy.”

“It’s empty right now so enjoy it,” Holly said. “Don’t lock yourself in now,” added with a teasing tone as she walked off.

Brittany rolled her eyes and made her way to the very large sauna. She’d known Holly for years, being a frequent visitor at the Berry household and she always teased her for being the token straight girl in a house full of queers.

She opened the door to the sauna and smiled at the steam that billowed out.

 _This is more like it_.

Saunas were definitely more her style. She loved the feeling of sweat sticking to her body. It was why she loved dancing (besides the fact that she rocked at it); it was a full body workout and she loved walking away afterwards drenched in sweat and feeling her body hum with adrenaline.

Similarly, she enjoyed that part of sex immensely too. Brittany groaned as she realised that she hadn’t had sex in _forever_ and her libido was not happy. She grabbed a towel from the stack and glanced around before slipping her robe off and wrapping the towel around her instead. She hung up the robe and stepped inside the sauna, shutting the door behind her. She went to the left corner and sat right at the top, discarding the towel and laying it along the top step. The steam was thick, just how she liked it. Once settled into a comfortable position, Brittany closed her eyes and let the heat open her pores. Even after a few minutes, she felt invigorated. Her skin was tingling and she bit her lip.

She was alone, horny as hell, in a sauna.

Fuck it.

She let her hand run down her now slick body, arousal already shooting between her legs. It really had been too long for her considering she’d been regularly laid a few times a week before going cold turkey.

Not by choice.

Brittany shut the voices in her head off and focused on her hand and the movements it was making all over her body. She gently squeezed her breast, flicking her thumb over the nipple and causing it to harden almost immediately. Her other hand ran over her stomach, the muscles still taut despite her rigorous training. She was very proud of her abs and she worked hard to keep them looking the way they did. Once Puck had been acting uncharacteristically sweet and had kissed all over her body and Brittany had found tingles shooting throughout her body when he’d kissed her abs.

She ran her fingers lightly over her stomach, feeling her muscles clench and unclench, causing her to tighten her legs as she felt a rush of wetness between them.

She bit harder on her lip as her one hand continued massaging her breast and the other moved further down to where she desperately needed it. She gasped quietly as her index and middle fingers slipped down her folds easily. The combination of the steam and her own wetness made movement very easy and she quickly found a rhythm. Her back arched a little off the bench as she touched her clit. She shuddered and did it again, squeezing her breast in pleasure.

She let out a little moan as her hand travelled lower. She widened her legs slightly and slipped two fingers inside herself, immediately moving them around before pulling them out and repeating the motion. Her body was getting a little desperate for a release so she sped up her movements. Her breathing came in quick gasps as she felt her stomach coil.

_Fuck, yes, this is going to be good._

The door suddenly opened and Brittany stilled, her hands frozen where they were.

_You have got to be fucking kidding me!_

Her eyes flew open, but she couldn’t see the door for all the steam. The sauna was pretty big so the chances of someone seeing her unless they actually came to sit where she was, were slim.

A familiar humming made her involuntarily squeeze her legs tighter, trapping her hand there. Of course. It would be her fucking luck. Of all the people to walk into the sauna just as she was about to revel in a much-needed orgasm, it had to be Santana.

Jesus, the universe was fucked up. She could feel the desire pent up in her stomach, ready for that final push. Not a fuck was she risking Santana hearing her get off. She’d never live that down.

She kept her eyes peeled for any sign of movement, but it sounded like the humming was going to the opposite corner from where she was.

_Oh, thank God._

The humming turned into singing. Brittany didn’t recognise the tune, but she considered the possibility of Santana’s singing drowning out her own noises.

With her luck? Yeah, right. God, her arousal was becoming painful. She chanced moving the fingers that were still inside her and pleasure shot through her body. She quietly took a deep breath and relaxed her thigh muscles.

_“But you didn't have to cut me off. Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing and I don't even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough.”_

Brittany rolled her eyes. Of all the songs, seriously? She shut her eyes tightly, blocking out Santana’s voice and concentrating on the subtle movements of her fingers. She quickly worked up a quiet rhythm that started building up what she’d lost in her brief respite.

_Fuck, almost there._

She curled her fingers inside, pushing them as deep as they could go and triggered her orgasm. Relief and pleasure washed over her as her back arched slightly and her breath caught in her throat. Her legs shook slightly with aftershocks as she carefully brought herself down.

“Is someone in here?”

Brittany’s eyes flew open.

_Shit!_

“I’m sorry, I thought I was by myself,” she continued. “Hello?”

Brittany carefully pushed herself up and wrapped the towel around her, wiping her fingers on the damp white material.

“I must be going crazy,” she heard Santana mumble.

She checked that she was appropriate before speaking. “Only just figuring that out, Lopez?”

“Brittany?”

“Jackpot.”

“What…?”

“What what?” Brittany asked, sounding nonchalant.

“Were you…?” Santana seemed uncomfortable.

“I should record this. Santana Lopez fumbling for words. Front page news for sure.”

She heard her huff and saw a shape appear nearby. She was wearing a towel, same as Brittany, but had her hair piled loosely on top of her head and it gave her face a very different look.

“Oh, I forgot. You’re blind,” Brittany teased, trying to shake how this new look of Santana’s was affecting her.

“Actually, I’m wearing my contacts today,” Santana replied, jumping up the benches and lying next to Brittany.

”What are you doing?” Brittany asked.

“Same as you.”

She settled down and got comfortable. “Hmmm, love the sauna. It’s totally my favourite part of this place.”

Brittany didn’t reply. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but it was hard to ignore Santana’s presence next to her in nothing more than a towel.

“What made you decide on Mad World?” Santana suddenly asked.

Brittany’s eyes opened again and she sighed. “I just heard it on the radio when I was going home on Tuesday and I thought it sounded cool.”

“Hmmm.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brittany said sharply.

“Nothing. Just the way you sang it…I thought maybe there was a more…”

“More what?”

“A more personal story behind it,” Santana said eventually.

“And what makes you think I would tell you even if there was?” Brittany asked, sitting up suddenly.

“I don’t know,” Santana replied. “Sometimes you tell me things that I don’t expect. I thought-“

“Well, don’t,” Brittany interrupted. “Whatever heart-to-heart we had on Monday was most likely a result of shock from the pain. Don’t read too much into it.” She settled back down onto the bench.

“What-“

“Jesus, Santana!” Brittany exploded. “I’m happy to give this friends thing a shot, but right now I’m getting my relaxation on. And I prefer silence when I’m relaxing.”

“Well, I’m going to sing,” Santana said. Her tone told Brittany that she was doing it simply to piss her off.

”Why do you take such pleasure in making my life miserable?” Brittany sighed.

“Me make your life miserable?” Santana asked, laughing. “Oh, that is so rich! When, pray tell, have I ever made your life miserable?”

“Um, let me think, how about when you gave me a concussion?” Brittany snapped back.

“You started the fight!”

“Because you don’t know when to shut your mouth!”

“So just because I’m not scared to stand up to you, the fight was my fault?” Santana asked incredulously.

“Argh, see? This is why I told Rachel this would never work. You’re insufferable. Everything must always be about you.”

Santana just laughed. “Now I wish I could record this.”

Brittany stood up and looked over Santana with her arms folded across her chest. Her hands were resting on her stomach and she eyes were closed.

“Why couldn’t you have just left things the way they were?”

Her eyes opened then and narrowed. She also stood up and looked at Brittany as if she couldn’t believe she’d actually just heard the question.

“Excuse me? You’re joking, right?”

Brittany raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to offer yourself up as bait. You brought the pain on yourself. And yet somehow we’re the bad guys.”

“Okay, first off, I told you ingrates to pick on me, as you so said, because I didn’t think it was fair that my friends, who are all pretty awesome people, got slushied and tossed into dumpsters every other day because the Neanderthals that believe they run the school need the same kind of entertainment as cave men.”

“What-“

“Oh no, I’m not done. You wanted me to talk, so now you’re gonna listen,” Santana continued firmly. “Secondly, what is it about me and my friends that is so terrible that you felt the need to treat us like less than humans? Actually, this is something that I’ve thought about at length, and my theory is that you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” Brittany scoffed.

“Yes, jealous. I’d write it down for you, but I’m pretty sure you can spell.”

Brittany grit her teeth.

Santana continued, “Glee Club may be considered gay, a one-way ticket to Loserville, Losers R Us, fag explosion, dykes unite, whatever the fuck you morons called us, but every single person in that club is my friend. And I’m not talking about a superficial I-like-you-this-week-but-hate-you-next-week-because-you-slept-with-my-boyfriend kind of friend. They’re the kind of friends that have your back, no matter what. And I can tell you now that when I graduate, I’m going to stay in contact with every single one of them, and I’ll probably see them in a few years. How many of your Cheerios and jock friends can you honestly see yourself forming lasting relationships with? Puck was a grand disaster and there’s Rachel. You have one friend, Brittany. One. And I’m supposed to believe you’re the top dog?”

Brittany’s heart was hammering, but it wasn’t from Santana’s proximity. She was trying really hard not to cry.

“Everyone in Glee Club can sing and dance. And a few of them can act. Most of us are on the honour roll and are part of other academic clubs. If they took my college application against any of the Cheerios, who would they choose? Me. You know why? Because I’m well-rounded. I’m balanced. I’m talented, but I don’t hog the spotlight. Do you know how many more opportunities there are available to us because we took the time to discover them and hone them?”

She took a deep breath and rubbed the back of her neck as her eyes bore into Brittany’s.

Brittany tried to control her breathing.

“I bet you think that makes you a top dog, huh?” she spat.

Santana shrugged.

“Well, guess what, Lupus, you aren’t a top dog and you never will be. Sure, everyone knows your name because you’re banging Rachel Berry who happens to be the most popular girl in school next to me. And I can flunk all my classes and do nothing other than Cheerios and I’ll still get a full ride because I may not be book smart like you but I’m a fucking good cheerleader. And down in the dungeon with the rest of your Gleeks that may mean nothing, but in the real world, where it matters, cheerleaders are royalty. So congrats, you staged a little coup at once measly high school. Big fucking deal. It doesn’t make a difference because the world still considers me royalty and you dog shit.”

“Take it back,” Santana said suddenly, stepping very close to her and Brittany could feel the anger radiating off her skin.

Brittany simply glared back. “Why should I let you say shit about me, but the minute I say something back, I should apologise? Do you really not understand what a double standard is? Or do you just think that the world should bow down to Santana Lopez?”

“God, you still don’t get it! I don’t want anyone bowing down to me! I just don’t think that anyone should have to bow down to anyone. Every person that you meet is responsible for who they are. Why should they constantly apologise for that when they’re just trying to figure out who they are? I don’t know everything about myself yet. It’s a constant process. I’d bet that there are many things that you’re going to discover about yourself. But we shouldn’t be made to fear these new discoveries in case they don‘t fit the little boxes that you’ve created for us.”

“I didn’t create any boxes,” Brittany argued. “The boxes were already there, Santana. Society created them and society is a hell of a lot bigger than William McKinley High School.”

Santana took a step back and leaned against the back wall. “Fuck it, I know that, Brittany. I’m not stupid.” She sounded tired. “But can’t you see that it only takes a handful of people to initiate change. You see it in schools all over the country. They’re combating things like bullying and homophobia one school at a time because it’s logically impossible to affect society as a whole. But you start small and the ripple effect reaches to another school, and from there it goes to another school and so on and so forth. That’s how you make a difference. But it starts with one school. It starts with one group of people.”

Brittany frowned at Santana and studied her as she finished her speech.

“So you standing up for your friends, how was that you trying to make a change?” she asked, her voice a little softer.

Santana shrugged. “I’m not so sure that was me trying to initiate a grand shift in the societal paradigm. That was just me being a martyr, as you so memorably said.”

“Look, Santana,” Brittany began.

“Don’t worry about it,” Santana cut in, lifting her hand. She chuckled mirthlessly. “You weren’t wrong. I do have this…complex, I suppose you could call it.”

“What. like a god complex?”

“I’m not so sure that’s the right term, but it’s similar. I don’t even know if it’s a real complex, but I call it the Mother Theresa complex.”

“Mother Theresa?” Brittany furrowed her brows.

“Well, yeah. You know her, right?”

Brittany nodded. Her parents were devout Catholics so she’d done the whole Sunday School thing.

“Well, she gave her life to the service of others. Everything she did was to benefit those less fortunate than herself. So, I guess, in a really twisted way that kinda makes me feel like a bit of bitch for insulting her memory, I thought that me taking the slushies would spare them the humiliation. I was trying to help them, I guess.”

Santana frowned. “Jesus, I really am a martyr. My initial intention may have been to help my friends, but over time I started to enjoy how they respected me.”

”A little misplaced, don’t you think?” Brittany ventured.

Santana lifted a shoulder. “I guess I didn’t think so at the time, but yeah.” She sunk to the floor and Brittany immediately averted her eyes from Santana’s exposed legs. Very exposed legs.

“Fuck!” Santana whispered, dropping her head into her hands.

_Shit, now what?_

Brittany shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. She felt as out of place as when she’d found Santana crying in the hospital bathroom. These long talks about themselves and shit were becoming a habit and Brittany was a little uncertain as to whether she liked them or not. Or whether she liked the talking or simply because they were with Santana.

_Stop it!_

“Look, I didn’t mean-“

“No, you don’t understand,” Santana said, looking up at her. “Everything that I have propagated from day one has simply been in service of this fucked up complex I have going on. I’m a fucking hypocrite!”

“No, look, you’re not,” Brittany said quickly. Crap, Rachel was going to kill her if Santana walked out having lost all of her fire and shit. “Santana, as you said, you’re trying to figure out who you are. We all are, right? So maybe this is the universe or whatever’s way of telling you that your heart’s in the right place but maybe you need to take a different journey.”

_Holy shit, where the fuck did that come from?_

Santana seemed to agree with her conscience because she looked up at her with a look of disbelief on her face.

Brittany went with it. “Okay, so you remember how you were telling me about whether you weren’t sure if you wanted to be a doctor or not?”

Santana’s eyes widened and a small smile played on her lips. “You remember that?”

“Well, yeah,” Brittany replied, trying to sound indifferent. “Whatever, no big deal. Anyway, maybe you should look into something like politics.”

“Politics?”

Brittany shrugged. “You’re stubborn as hell, but you’re passionate about what you believe in. You fight for the little guys and you don’t give up. You’re also not afraid to get your hands dirty. And let’s face it, politics is very dirty.”

“Huh.”

Santana looked contemplative and Brittany suddenly felt like she was intruding on her private thinking time or something.

What the actual fuck, Pierce? Grow a pair.

“I honestly never even considered politics as a potential career choice,” Santana mused.

“Glad I could help,” Brittany said, her voice unnaturally high.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you have any idea what you want to do after school?” Santana asked.

“Um, go to college,” Brittany mumbled.

Santana smiled. “And study what?”

Brittany opened her mouth and closed it again. She had no idea. She’d always figured that she’d get a cheerleading scholarship and study whatever she felt like and marry a football player or something and be set for life.

“It’s okay if you don’t know, Britt,” Santana said lightly. “You’re only a sophomore.”

Brittany’s eyes widened and Santana’s mirrored hers when she realised what she’d said.

“I’m sorry, I-“

”No, it’s fine-“

“But it’s kinda weird.”

“Yeah.”

They slumped into an awkward silence.

“You wouldn’t want to go into writing like your dad?” Santana eventually asked quietly.

Brittany shook her head fervently. She didn’t want to do anything that might give her parents the opportunity to keep her close.

“Okay, well what about your dancing?”

“What about it?” Brittany asked, shrugging.

“Would you consider pursuing it further?”

Brittany shrugged again. “I don’t know. I mean, I never thought about it really.”

”Well, you’re really good. And I’ve seen you dance outside of Cheerios and Glee. You could definitely make a career out of it.”

“Hmmm.” Would she enjoy dancing for the rest of her life?

“Just something to consider,” Santana said with a smile.

“How do you know how I dance outside of Cheerios and Glee?” Brittany asked suspiciously.

“Well, I saw you at the party a few weeks back, even though you were totally wasted, you moved really naturally. Almost like the music moved you as opposed to you having control over it.” She chuckled. “Sorry, that sounded like something out of Jay and Silent Bob’s world.”

“I love Jay and Silent Bob,” Brittany grinned.

“Yeah?”

“Totally. Clerks was one of the funniest movies I saw when I was younger.” She frowned. “Then again, I hardly understood anything, but I’ve watched it again since then and it’s pretty hilarious.”

Santana laughed. “My brother Miguel went through a phase of trying to be like Silent Bob. He wouldn’t say anything and then randomly spout these grand pearls of wisdom. Well, so he thought. We all preferred the silent parts better.”

Brittany laughed too. “It’s weird to think that I’m not really going to be around to see my brother and sister got to high school,” she mused. “You and your brothers are so close. I mean,” she amended quickly, “it sounds like you are.”

Santana smiled. “It’s okay, Brittany. Talking about feelings and shit won’t make us spontaneously combust. You’re safe.”

Brittany rolled her eyes.

“But yeah, we are a very close family,” Santana said, resting her hands on her knees. “Why won’t you see your brother and sister hit high school?”

“Well, I definitely don’t plan on staying Lima once I graduate. I’m going to an out of state college and hopefully will move somewhere far away.”

Santana frowned. “Lima’s not that bad.”

“It’s not Lima,” Brittany said before her brain could actually stop her.

_Pierce, this is not fucking Dr. Phil._

“Oh,” Santana said quietly.

They shared a few moments of silence before Brittany blurted out, “It’s my parents. I’m just need to get away from them.”

Santana looked at her curiously. “They’re not around a lot, are they?”

Brittany shook her head. “The twins weren’t planned. My parents were happy with one kid. Eight years after me, surprise! Needless to say, they weren’t about to let the surprise affect their careers,” she finished bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” Santana said sincerely. “I’m realising more and more how fortunate I am to have a family who’s there when I come home for dinner, who has barbeques on Sundays, who has obnoxious family grocery shopping experiences.”

Brittany smiled sadly. “We all deal with our lot in life,” she mumbled. “I learned long ago to just accept that my parents are who they are and that unless I want my brat siblings to turn into mini-criminals, I had to sort of look after them. So…yeah.”

“You’re a good big sister. I’m sure they’ll realise that. Right now, it’s all about them and chances are, that’s not gonna stop till they graduate. Look at us. We’ve been talking non-stop about ourselves.”

Brittany sighed and sat down cross-legged on the bench facing Santana.

“Is this weird?” she asked suddenly.

Santana looked thoughtful. “You know, a week ago I would’ve said hell yeah, but I don’t feel awkward.”

Makes one of us.

“Do you feel weird?” Santana asked.

“Nope,” Brittany replied, looking down at her nails. She was happy that she was getting a manicure. She needed one.

She came crashing back to reality. She was in a fucking sauna, her entire body was covered in sweat and she was having a heart-to-heart with her best friend’s girlfriend who was completely off limits, but who Brittany had been unable to get off her mind.

“Um, I should go,” she said quickly.

“Why?” Santana asked in confusion. “We’re only having lunch at twelve. We’ve still got plenty of time.”

“Um, yeah, but I have to…pee! Yup, gotta pee. It’s the steam,” Brittany mumbled, moving to stand up.

Santana stood up too and they looked at each other for a moment.

“Thank you for the talk,” Santana eventually said, a small smile forming on her lips. “It was definitely…interesting.”

“Yeah, we don’t seem to do things the conventional way,” Brittany chuckled.

“Conventional’s boring,” Santana replied with a wink.

_Wait, what? Did she just wink at me?_

“I’ll see you round,” Brittany said, spinning on the bench. Her foot stepped in something slippery and she lost balance. She desperately threw her arms out to try and reclaim it, but she felt her body falling forward.

_Great. Another injury. Just my fucking luck._

* * *

Santana saw Brittany lose her footing and she immediately went to grab her arm to steady her, but Brittany’s arms were waving around as she obviously tried to regain her stability.

She teetered forward and Santana reacted, grabbing hold of the white towel wrapped around Brittany’s body. She gripped the top of it where it met the middle of her back and she pulled. She heard Brittany shriek and the jerk spun her around. Santana suddenly found the white material loose in her grip. Her eyes widened at a sight she never thought she’d see: a naked Brittany, holding onto the other end of the towel as she just stared at Santana.

Brittany stepped back and Santana pulled the towel forward forcefully, knowing that she would’ve fallen off the step. Brittany hadn’t expected the pull and stumbled towards her. Santana stepped back, hitting the wall and she found herself suddenly staring into wide blue eyes.

Her hands were gripping slick skin. Brittany’s slick skin. Brittany’s slick naked skin. Santana’s hands were on her back and she had no idea how they’d got there.

_You totally braced her fall. She was stumbling towards you and you caught her._

Right. She’d caught her. A naked Brittany. In her arms.

Her heart was racing and she found that she could feel Brittany’s too because they were completely pressed up against each other. Brittany’s hands were on her shoulders but they also weren’t moving.

“W-w-we should…” Santana began.

“Yeah, we, uh…” Brittany agreed, faltering.

Santana closed her eyes as her hot breath brushed across her face.

“We should…”

“Yeah…”

Santana felt Brittany’s fingers dig into her shoulders slightly and she swallowed as her hands on Brittany’s back seemed to pull her slightly closer. She was sure it was her imagination.

“We…uh…”

“Yeah.” Again, her breath blew across Santana’s face, causing her own body temperature to increase even more. And hello, they were in a sauna.

“Santana,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” she replied, not even sure if her gave it any voice.

“I…”

Santana held her breath at the sudden look in Brittany’s eyes, how the crystal blue that had once captivated her suddenly became a shade darker.

“I wonder…”

“Yeah?”

Her body couldn’t respond to any command her brain tried to give it, if it even was giving one. Her brain seemed to be on strike too. She saw Brittany’s gaze flitter down to her lips for a millisecond before they were back up to her eyes. Subconsciously, that flicker made her lick her lips, which only made Brittany look down again.

_Oh, dear God._

“You…” Brittany whispered, her gaze now pretty much locked on her lips.

“Yeah?” She squeezed her eyes closed in embarrassment as the word came out in a high-pitched whine.

When she opened them again, Brittany’s face was a lot closer than it had been a moment ago. Her breathing picked up its pace slightly. She rested her head against the wall because the whole ordeal had already been exhausting for her and nothing had even happened.

That was until she felt Brittany’s lips brush hers. Softly at first, then another barely-there brush. She gasped at the sensation. Then she felt Brittany’s mouth capture her bottom lip, sucking it lightly. The action emitted a groan from her and made her dig her fingers into Brittany’s naked back.

That seemed to be all the encouragement Brittany needed. She let go of Santana’s bottom lip and pulled away to lock eyes. They exchanged heavy lidded looks before Brittany leaned down and crashed their lips together.

Santana automatically responded. She had no control over it.

Brittany’s hands dropped from her shoulders and slid behind her back, pulling them closer together. Santana’s one hand wrapped around Brittany’s waist and the other went behind her neck, fusing their mouths closer together. Her lips worked against Brittany’s almost as though they were made for each other. Brittany parted her lips first, her tongue brushing Santana’s lips. Santana granted her entrance immediately and shuddered as the feeling of Brittany’s tongue against hers.

The kisses became more heated as hands started wandering over available skin – Santana more fortunate with her explorations. Brittany’s hands dipped underneath Santana’s towel and she gasped as she felt Brittany’s soft hands running up and down her thighs and over her ass.

“Fuck,” she gasped, breaking from Brittany’s lips for a desperate breath.

Brittany was not deterred and simply kissed down Santana’s neck and onto her shoulders. Santana found her hips starting to rock of their own accord and Brittany’s hands on her ass were simply guiding her hips against her own.

Santana grunted and caught Brittany’s mouth again. Tongues and teeth everywhere as they desperately tried to get their bodies closer, even though it wasn’t possible. Brittany’s one hand gripped the bottom of Santana’s towel and pulled down sharply, undoing the knot at the top. It dropped between them and their skin met. Both moaned at the sensation. Brittany let her hands wander all over Santana’s back and backside, nails grating to send shivers down Santana’s spine.

“B, you in here?”

­Brittany jumped away from Santana as though she’d burned her. They looked at each other in fear, breathing heavily. Brittany snapped out of it first, bending to grab the towel Santana had dropped after catching her. She quickly wrapped it around her and attempted to smooth her hair. Santana bit her lip and knelt to retrieve her own towel.

_What the fuck have you just done, Santana Lopez?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to all readers old and new!
> 
> I've created a Brittana discord server if anyone's interested: https://discord.gg/WUpexmr


	14. Chapter 14

Brittany was a mess. Her head was everywhere and she couldn’t look at Santana. Her breathing was completely erratic and her heart was racing. She couldn’t actually believe what had just happened. Part of her wondered if it actually had.

“B? Holly said you came here,” Rachel’s voice called out again.

She took a deep breath and chanced a quick glance back at Santana and immediately wished she hadn’t as she saw her pulling the towel around her body. That creamy caramel skin, so smooth under her fingertips.

_Stop it! Nothing happened._

Brittany wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to pull that lie off, but she had to. She _had_ to. It was a mistake. There was probably something in the steam that was messing with her.

_Uh huh. That’s why you’re wetter than you ever have been before. That’s why all you’re thinking about now is kissing her again._

Brittany shook her head slightly and made her way down the benches to the door.

“Hey, Rach,” she said casually. “Sorry, think I fell asleep or something.”

“Geez, how long have you been in here?” Rachel teased, knotting her own hair on top of her head.

Brittany tried not to think of how Santana had done the same thing. “Uh, a while. Why?”

“You’re all flushed. Sauna too hot for you?” Rachel smirked.

“Uh, maybe,” Brittany replied, frowning as she mentally facepalmed herself.

_Get a fucking grip, Pierce! Rachel’s going to suspect something if you don’t get your act together._

“Whatever, I’m over it now. Let’s grab something to eat.”

“Cool. Um, you didn’t see Santana come in here? She texted me to say she’d be in here.”

Brittany shrugged, hoping she seemed casual, even though the mere mention of Santana’s name sent her body temperature skyrocketing.

“Haven’t seen her. But she might’ve come in. Like I said, I think I fell asleep.”

“Have some good dreams, B?” Rachel teased, opening the door.

“Wouldn’t you love to know?” Brittany retorted, but her voice betrayed a note of nervousness.

Thankfully, Rachel didn’t seem to notice it. “Ew, B. A day in your fantasies? Way too many male body parts for my taste, thanks.”

Brittany managed a weak laugh.

_Jesus, Rach. If you only knew._

* * *

Santana wasn’t sure how long she sat in the sauna by herself. Her thoughts were muddled and incoherent and no matter how much she tried to make sense of what had happened, the memory of it overran everything and she found herself simply getting flustered and irritated.

“Santana?”

She looked up but couldn’t see the door through the steam.

“I’m at the back, Quinnie,” she said weakly.

“Geez, this is worse than a fog,” Quinn joked, appearing through the steam.

Santana didn’t say anything and just ran a hand through her loose hair. She’d let it down to give her nervous hands something to do.

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, sitting down next to her.

Santana covered her mouth with her hands and glanced sideways at her best friend. “I did something, Quinn. Something really bad and I have _no_ idea how to deal with the consequences.”

Quinn’s eyes narrowed in concern and she scooted closer. “This sounds serious, San. Are you okay?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never fucked up like this before, Quinn. Never.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just tell me what happened. I won’t judge you.”

Santana scoffed quietly. Of course she would. And she deserved to. Cheating was reserved for the lowest of the low. And she was now part of that group.

Quinn moved her hand to Santana’s back and she was instantly reminded of Brittany’s hands all over her body. She shivered involuntarily and gently shrugged Quinn’s hands away.

”Sorry, Quinnie, it’s not you, I promise. I just…” She took a deep breath. “Okay, here we go. Brittany kissed me.”

“Oh,” Quinn said in surprise. “Well, I can’t say I expected that.”

“I kissed her back,” Santana continued quietly.

“W-w-what?”

“I just… I don’t know how it happened. Quinn, I’ve _never_ been kissed like that in my life before. It was…mind-blowing. It was the full toe-curling, heart-soaring, romantic-comedy-final-kiss kind of kiss. I…I couldn’t stop kissing her.”

“Um…”

“Trust me, I _know_ how fucked up this is. And the scary thing is, we probably would’ve gone further if Rachel hadn’t walked in.”

“What?’ Quinn squeaked.

“She didn’t see anything,” Santana said quickly. “We were here at the back and Brittany immediately pulled away when she heard Rachel.” She sighed. “Quinnie, what am I gonna do? I can’t pretend that this didn’t happen.”

“San, maybe you should talk to Brittany about this before you decide to do anything.”

Santana nodded. “I have this feeling that she’s just going to ignore it and pretend it never happened, just like what she said last week.”

“What did she say last week?” Quinn asked curiously.

“Well, I went to go and put Rachel’s bag in her locker because she and Brittany had a fight. I was also going to try and talk to Brittany and make her see that Rachel had done a lot for her and she needed to stop acting like a bitch. So, we got to talking and I think she understood what I was saying even though she was being extremely antagonistic.” She paused. “Then she said that she was jealous.”

“Of you?”

“No, of Rachel.”

“Huh.”

“I know, right? I just got outta there. I didn’t know what to say to that. But since then she’s gone right back to the Brittany we all know. But when it’s just us, she totally opens up. I can’t explain it. She knows stuff about me that Rachel doesn’t even know, purely because we just haven’t reached that point yet. I…” She dropped her head into her hands. “I can’t stop thinking about the kiss and how guilty it makes me feel. I can’t hurt Rachel, Quinn. She’s been so amazing and it’s her _best friend_. It would kill her.”

Quinn nodded. “I still think you need to talk to Brittany before you make any more decisions, San. You need to find out where she stands with this. I mean, is she gay?”

Santana shrugged. It was something she’d been wondering of late. “If she is, she’s so buried in the closet that I doubt she’ll have a grand opening anytime soon.”

“Well, if that’s the case, maybe this should remain between the two of you. I mean, what are the chances it’ll happen again?”

“I don’t know,” Santana mumbled.

“Do you…do you want it to happen again?” Quinn asked curiously.

”Wouldn’t you want to experience the best kiss of your life again?” Santana replied with a resigned sigh. “You’re right. I need to talk to her. God, how did this get so fucked up? I start dating Rachel and my life just falls to fucking pieces.”

“Love will do that,” Quinn teased.

“I’m not in love with Rachel, Quinn,” she said. “But the potential is there,” she added wistfully.

“And Brittany?”

“Well, my body has never reacted like that before. She felt…amazing. All of her.”

“Whoa, TMI,” Quinn said, closing her eyes. “Um, without disclosing graphic details, how far did you two get before Rachel interrupted?”

“We were naked and she had me pinned against the wall.”

“Oh,” Quinn said, her eyes wide.

“We didn’t have sex. We weren’t even close to having sex.”

“You were naked,” Quinn countered.

“We’re in a sauna. Plus, I didn’t care that I was naked. Her hands… I mean, jeez.”

“Okay, enough mental images for me for the _rest_ of my life,” Quinn said, pulling a face.

Santana smiled a little. “We’re supposed to join them for lunch. How the hell am I supposed to sit at a table with both of them?”

“Look, until you speak to Brittany, you’re just going to have to have find a way to deal. Rachel is still your girlfriend and, like you said, she hasn’t done anything to deserve you shying away from her because you feel guilty. Whatever this thing is with Brittany, has it changed how you feel about Rachel?”

“No,” Santana said honestly. “I still care about her. I just feel _so_ guilty.”

“Well try and ignore that guilt for the rest of today,” Quinn said. “Look, I realise the situation isn’t ideal, but I think it’s the best course of action for right now.”

Santana nodded and stood up. Time to face the music.

* * *

Rachel laughed at one of the Cheerios pictures on Instagram and showed Brittany on her phone.

“God, why is half the squad fitted with half-assed batteries for brains?” Brittany scoffed, sipping her smoothie.

“Because the smart ones all become captain,” Rachel teased.

Brittany rolled her eyes but smiled. “Hey, Rach?” she asked after a while.

“Hmmm?”

“What do you think about me dancing after school? You know, like professionally?”

Rachel looked at her best friend. She looked a little nervous, a very rare look for her. She smiled at her.

“I think it’s awesome.”

“Yeah?” Brittany asked, her face brightening.

“Totally. You choreograph most of our routines even though Coach Em always takes credit and you’re by _far_ the best dancer at McKinley. Are you thinking of going to New York or something?”

“I dunno,” Brittany shrugged. “I kinda just started thinking about it in the sauna. I mean, do you know what you wanna do after school?”

“Actually, now that you mention it, I have no idea,” Rachel said with a laugh. “Whoops.”

She spotted Santana and Quinn entering the café in their robes and she smiled, waving them over.

“Promise you’ll play nice?” she asked Brittany.

Brittany nodded, a pained smile crossing her face. Rachel rolled her eyes and stood up to greet Santana.

“Hey, baby,” she said, smiling.

Santana returned the smile and leaned in for a quick kiss. Rachel was a little surprised because they normally went into a little make out session when they greeted each other. Maybe Quinn was giving her a hard time after having to separate them on three separate occasions at school the previous day.

“Hey, Quinn,” she greeted.

Quinn smiled genuinely and nodded her head before pulling a chair out.

“Hi, Brittany,” Santana said quietly.

Rachel watched as Brittany’s eyes flickered towards Santana. “Hey,” she said eventually, going back to her phone.

Well, she wasn’t expecting miracles so it was a start. She sat down next to Santana and entwined their fingers. Santana smiled at her.

“So, what’s good here, Rachel? I hear you know the owner?”

“Yup, she’s a friend of my dads.”

“Hey, now Santana has a conversation starter,” Quinn said in a teasing tone.

“Quinn! Jesus, will you lay off?” Santana retorted, but she was smiling.

Rachel chuckled.

“Stop laughing,” Santana berated her. “You have no idea the torture I’ve had to endure because of this damn dinner.”

“What dinner?” Brittany asked, trying not to look interested. Rachel knew better, though.

“Santana’s meeting Rachel’s dads tomorrow night,” Quinn informed her.

“Oh?” Brittany asked, her eyebrows raised. “You think she’d ready for the Dad Test?”

“Dad Test?” Santana asked nervously. “What’s the Dad Test?”

“Relax, babe,” Rachel chuckled, kissing her hand. “Britt’s teasing. My dads are gonna love you.”

“Well, it’s not like they have any comparison,” Brittany mumbled, her eyes moving back to her phone.

“Really, Brittany?” Rachel asked in exasperation.

“I’m the only girl you’ve brought home?” Santana asked, surprised.

Rachel shrugged. “As you know, I don’t really do the whole ‘girlfriend’ thing.”

Santana grinned. “I feel so honoured. I made it to the Meet the Dads stage.”

Rachel blushed a little and Santana leaned in to kiss her cheek softly.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad I’ve made it this far,” she whispered.

Rachel smiled and pressed her lips against Santana’s.

“Hey, we’re about to eat,” Brittany said snippily. “Any chance you guys could hold off till _after_ my wrap has been digested?”

Rachel rolled her eyes and leaned in for one last peck before moving back to settle into her chair comfortably. She eyed Brittany as she played around on her phone.

“Way to be antisocial, B,” she said, arching an eyebrow.

Brittany sighed dramatically and dropped her phone on the table. “Enlighten me with riveting conversation, then.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed. Brittany had said she was going to try and her efforts were leaving a lot to be desired. She gritted her teeth.

“It’s fine.”

Rachel glanced sideways at Santana curiously.

“Quinn and I are just gonna grab some smoothies before we head to a movie. Hope that’s okay?” she asked Rachel.

She nodded. “Sure, babe. B and I still have an afternoon here, but we’ll talk tonight?”

Santana nodded and stood up, leaning down to kiss her goodbye.

“Bye, Brittany,” she said softly, walking towards the front counter without waiting for a response.

“Uh, guess I’ll see you guys around,” Quinn said, following Santana.

“So, is this the effort I can expect from you?’ Rachel asked once they were out of earshot.

“What?”

“You said you were going to try and make friends. But you were just as rude as you normally are. What the fuck, B? Santana is actually important to me and I’d like to think that my best friend supports me.”

“I-I do,” Brittany said, frowning. “I dunno, maybe I stayed in the sauna for too long. I’m just feeling a little weird.”

“You sure?” Rachel asked suspiciously.

“What else could it be?” Brittany asked quickly. “I mean, it’s gonna take a while, okay? Baby steps, right?”

Rachel nodded slowly, a little concerned with her best friend’s odd behaviour. “But you actually have to take the first step in order for there to be baby steps, Britt.”

“Totally,” Brittany replied. “Tell you what, I’ll invite them both to my party on Friday. In fact, I’ll invite the whole Glee Club.”

“Say what?” Rachel’s mouth dropped.

“Yeah, we gotta start small, right? How else are things gonna change?”

Rachel leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. She felt like she’d stepped into a parallel universe or something.

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with Brittany Pierce?” she teased.

Brittany mumbled something and Rachel frowned. It sounded like she’d said _fucking sauna_ but why blame the sauna? There hadn’t even been anyone else in there when she’d found her.

Whatever. Brittany was in dire need of a party and a good lay. And being the amazing best friend she was, Rachel was going to make sure she got just that.

* * *

Brittany jumped off her bed and shut her music off forcefully. She glared at her iHome as though it was responsible for the turmoil she felt.

_Ain’t no one to blame but yourself, Pierce._

Brittany groaned and turned back to her bed, flopping face first into the pillows. Her hands clenched into fists and she started pounding the mattress in frustration. The rest of her afternoon with Rachel had been ridiculously awkward for her. Every comment that Rachel had made about Santana simply brought the memory of them kissing back to the forefront of her mind. Not that it had ever really left.

She couldn’t feel like this. It was wrong. What she’d done was wrong. So very, very wrong.

_And yet it felt so good._

“No,” Brittany mumbled into her bed.

She refused to let the mistake with Santana fuck up her life even more. That’s exactly what it had been. It was a mistake and it would _never_ happen again. Her best friend’s girlfriend was nothing to her.

Brittany squeezed her eyes closed and repeated the mantra in her head. Maybe after enough times, she could convince herself that she didn’t want to do it again.

* * *

Santana stood outside the door to Rachel’s house on Sunday evening and took a deep breath. She’d never been so nervous. She was about to meet her girlfriend’s dads and apparently, she was the first to do so. What if they hated her? What if they said she wasn’t good enough? What if they read her mind and figured out what she’d done the previous day with their daughter’s best friend?

The door suddenly opened and Santana blinked in surprise at Rachel’s casual jeans and t-shirt look. She looked really hot. Santana loved the casual look on most girls.

“Are you planning on standing there all night?” she smirked.

“Uh…”

_Get it together, Lopez. It has been established that your girlfriend is insatiably hot._

Rachel just chuckled and grabbed Santana’s hand and pulled her inside. She leaned up and kissed her softly and it made Santana smile. She wrapped her arms around Rachel’s waist and pulled her closer, gently moving their lips together.

Rachel eventually pulled away, grinning. “I could definitely get used to greetings like that.”

“But that is how I always greet you,” Santana replied with a smirk.

“But we’re getting a rep,” Rachel said, trying to be serious.

“And since when do I care about that?” Santana murmured, ducking her face into Rachel’s neck, nuzzling the exposed skin with her nose.

The gesture made Rachel shiver. “You make a valid argument,” she eventually giggled. “But we definitely need to calm ourselves down. It’s awkward enough that our best friends keep catching us.”

Santana stiffened a little at the reminder. She still hadn’t said anything to Rachel about her and Brittany’s little tryst in the sauna and until she’d spoken to Brittany, she was wary of saying anything more.

She _hated_ that she’d cheated on Rachel. It made her feel terrible. Rachel was so affectionate and sweet that it only increased Santana’s guilt about what she’d done. As much as she couldn’t stop thinking about her kiss with Brittany, when she was with Rachel, she tended to forget about it momentarily. She took that as a sign that her relationship with Rachel was worth something more to her than some inexplicable make out session with Brittany Pierce.

“You okay?”

Santana was shaken from her inner thoughts and nodded with a genuine smile, taking Rachel’s face in and forgetting about Brittany.

“My family would not let up about this damn dinner,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“And how do you feel?” Rachel asked curiously.

Santana shrugged. “Nervous as hell. I feel like I’m headed for an interrogation. I really want them to like me.”

“Well, you need to meet us for that to happen,” a deep voice said with a chuckle.

Santana jumped away from Rachel, dislodging her glasses. She hurriedly righted them and offered a nervous smile at the two men standing at the entrance to the living room.

“Well, she definitely doesn’t _look_ like a serial killer,” Rachel’s one dad commented lightly. He was more grey than his husband, but in a very distinguished way.

“Not a serial killer, but I don’t think I’d like to stumble upon her in a dark alley,” the other man said good-naturedly.

“Nice, Dad. Way to make her feel at ease,” Rachel huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

“But honey bear, it’s our job as your dads to find out whether she’s worthy of your heart. We need to be tough and direct.”

“Um, sweetie, I think we established with your Spice Girls infatuation that you are anything but tough,” his husband whispered loudly.

Santana couldn’t help letting a giggle slip out. All eyes were on her and she cleared her throat. “Personally, I love the Spice Girls. If ever they have a reunion tour, I’m gonna be all over that like white on rice.”

Rachel’s dads burst out laughing and Santana felt a little less tense. Jokes were good, right? They eased the tension, right? Oh God, she was so terrible at this.

“Nice one, babe,” Rachel said in approval, sending her a wink.

“Oh, Rach, this one is definitely one of a kind. I like her.”

“Tough if you didn’t,” Rachel retorted, but her voice held no malice.

“Yes, Derek, I think it’s safe to say that our daughter is the toughest in this family,” the greying man said.

Derek let out a dramatic sigh. “Why did we raise such a strong-willed child?”

“Who else is going to kick your asses at karaoke?” Rachel teased.

“I almost beat you last night!”

“Keep dreaming, Daddy,” Rachel laughed.

“Strong-willed seems to be a substitute for smart-mouthed,” Derek said, arching a perfect eyebrow.

Santana just watched the exchange with a small smile. It was nice to know that Rachel had a good relationship with her dads, especially after what she’d told her the other day about her desire for a mother.

“Right, enough about our dysfunctionality. Santana, please join us for a glass of wine.”

Santana looked at Rachel in alarm, but she just nodded and took her hand.

“Sunday dinners are a tradition with us. We try a new dish out of the millions of cookery books my dad owns and since I started high school, I’ve been allowed a glass of wine at dinner.”

“Because you’re such an angel and need a slow introduction to alcohol,” Santana teased, linking their fingers.

“That’s me,” Rachel replied with a sultry wink. “Always an angel.”

They all sat in Rachel’s spacious living room, Rachel’s dads sitting on one couch and Santana and Rachel occupying the other.

“Right, official introductions are necessary, I believe,” the greying man said.

Santana sat forward, her nerves kicking up again.

“I am Derek Brenner and this is my husband, Seth Berry.”

Okay, so Derek liked the Spice Girls and Seth was the distinguished grey man. Santana nodded to herself.

“Santana Lopez,” she said in a strong voice, holding out her hand.

“Oh my,” Seth said, holding his hand to his chest. “This seems all very formal, doesn’t it?”

Santana’s confidence fizzled and she slowly dropped her hand.

“Oh, honey, don’t look so distraught!” Derek laughed. “Seth loves his drama. Clearly Rachel got that from him.”

Santana heard Rachel scoff next to her.

“It is an absolute pleasure to finally meet the girl that has stolen our daughter’s heart,” Derek continued with a warm smile, extending his hand.

Santana lifted her own again and Derek clasped it firmly. He nudged his husband before releasing it and Seth grinned mischievously with a smirk almost identical to Rachel’s.

“Apologies, m’lady,” Seth said bowing low so that his head almost touched his knees. “As my husband so tactfully pointed out, I am definitely the gayer of us two.”

Rachel chuckled and Santana couldn’t help but smile as they shook hands. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a complete disaster.

* * *

Santana parked her car in the parking lot on Monday morning and glanced around for Brittany’s car. She saw it in her reserved spot and took a deep breath. She knew they had early morning Cheerios practice because Rachel had sent her a good morning text at some ungodly hour.

She had to talk to Brittany before school. They didn’t have any classes together because Santana was in all the advanced classes and Brittany was, well…not. They had Glee after school, but there was no way she was waiting that long. She couldn’t sit with this nervous energy all day. It would kill her.

Waiting for Brittany in the locker room would simply raise suspicion because Rachel would be there. The same thing applied with regards to Santana walking up to Brittany in the halls. Besides, she was pretty sure that the she wouldn’t appreciate that. She hardly needed Brittany to be any more defensive than she probably was already. She didn’t have Brittany’s number otherwise she would’ve texted her. She could probably have gotten it from Rachel’s phone, but she felt that she was already being dishonest enough.

She pulled out of her notebook and scribbled a few words, tearing the paper out and folding it four times into a small square. Santana took another deep breath before exiting her car and hurrying inside the school. It was still early, but Santana had a History test later in the day and she’d wanted to get some extra studying in. Revising after what had happened on Saturday had kind of ended up being pointless.

Santana stopped outside Brittany’s locker and glanced up and down. The hall was empty. She stuffed the piece of paper through the vents and hurried to the library. Hopefully with a more solid plan in mind she might be able to study.

* * *

Brittany rolled her eyes at Rachel bounding off immediately after exiting the locker room, saying something about a library. She’d never even set foot in the damn place. It was way too depressing. Who the hell went to a place filled with boring ass books to sit and be quiet the whole fucking time? As if.

She strutted down the halls, glad to see that a path still opened for her. Some things would never change, regardless of what Santana thought.

Santana.

Brittany frowned. Her Sunday had been completely disastrous. Not only had she been forced to play babysitter for the Cramp Twins, any free moment had been spent trying _not_ to think about the Latina. Which, of course, had only led her to actually thinking about her.

She shook her head as she reached her locker. She pulled it open and frowned at the unfamiliar piece of paper lying close to the front. She unfolded it and felt a mixture of apprehension, fear and excitement at the note.

_Brittany,_

_We need to talk. You may not need to, but I do. I have a free period after first. Meet me in the library? I’m pretty sure no one will look for us there. I’ll be at one of the back tables._

_Santana_

She tried really hard not to see the sexual side of what Santana had written, but she was an incredibly sexual being. How could she not? She simply smiled ruefully and refolded the piece of paper, slipping it into her bra. She definitely didn’t need anyone finding it.

She didn’t have a free period that day, but she did have some scientific subject during that time and she really didn’t mind missing it. As she pulled her books out, she furrowed her brow at what Santana might say to her. And what the hell was she going to say back?

_I can’t do that to Rachel. I won’t. Dad always says what a great actress you are so use them skills and lie your ass off. Make her believe whatever you need her to believe._

Brittany nodded to herself as she slammed her locker door closed, a little louder than intended.

_This had better get me the fucking Awesomest Best Friend Award._

* * *

Santana glanced at her watch as she sat in a chair, her foot tapping subconsciously. Ten minutes of second period had already passed and Brittany was nowhere in sight.

After twenty minutes, she was about to give up when she looked up and saw a thoroughly uncomfortable Brittany next to the table.

“Hi,” she said, suddenly surprised that she’d actually come.

“Sorry, got lost,” Brittany mumbled, falling into the chair opposite Santana.

“You’ve never been in here before, have you?’ Santana asked curiously.

Brittany shrugged. “I have no reason to.”

“Where do you do your homework?”

“I don’t,” came the short reply.

Santana frowned and decided to halt that particular line of questioning until she’d covered what she’d planned to.

“Um, how are you?” she began.

Brittany’s eyes shot up and narrowed. “Say your piece, Santana. I don’t have time for bullshit small talk.”

_Wow. Guess that answers my question about her guards being up._

Santana took a breath. “I need to ask you how you feel about what happened.”

“What happened?”

Santana looked at her incredulously. She was examining her nails like any other day of the week.

“Brittany, you can’t-“

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do or say,” Brittany cut her off sharply.

“So you’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen?” Santana asked in disbelief.

“Well, nothing did happen, so I can’t pretend that nothing happened.”

Santana fell back in her chair, absolutely dumbfounded. Brittany was either in huge denial, like _huge_ , or she had suffered some form of mental blockage. She had heard of it happening, like shock-induced temporary amnesia.

Something told her that it wasn’t the amnesia.

_Wait. This is actually a good thing, right?_

If they pretended like nothing happened, then Santana wouldn’t have to tell Rachel anything. If Brittany could fake amnesia then Santana sure as hell could too. As amazing as kissing Brittany had felt, it was wrong. She was with Rachel and she was _happy_ with Rachel. A serious lapse in judgement wasn’t worth losing the best relationship she’d ever been in.

She nodded curtly. “Fine. We’re agreed. I just wanted to make sure that we were clear about that.”

As their eyes met, Santana could have sworn she saw a hint of regret and longing but brushed it off. She couldn’t have any more thoughts of Brittany like that. It wasn’t fair to Rachel and it was stupid. Brittany was clearly nowhere near ready to accept what she’d done, what _they’d_ done.

Santana was fine with her living in denial. It meant that her relationship with Rachel was safe and Brittany’s relationship with her best friend would also remain intact.

“Fine.”

It sounded to Santana like Brittany’s voice came across a little forced.

_Tough shit. I gave her the option to come clean and talk about it, but if she wants to play dumb then she has to deal with the consequences. If I tell Rachel and she confronts Brittany, she’d obviously just deny it and then I’ll look like the big idiot._

Nope. Not worth the risk.

“Have a good day,” Santana said, pulling out her history book and flipping it to the page she had stopped at when Rachel had attacked her with kisses before school.

A few minutes passed and Santana glanced up from her book to find Brittany still sitting there with a small frown on her face.

“Brittany,” she prodded.

Her head snapped up, seemingly surprised that Santana had noticed her. Santana frowned.

“Why are you still here?”

“It’s a free country,” Brittany snapped back.

Santana rolled her eyes. Defences were clearly back up.

“Whatever. I didn’t mean that you couldn’t sit here. But considering you’ve never been in here before and are now staring off into space, I can’t help but wonder why you’re still here.”

Brittany shrugged. “It’s quiet,” she whispered.

Santana let an amused smile cross her face. She hadn’t figured the notorious party girl for the P and Q type.

“That is the general idea in a library,” Santana teased.

Brittany pulled a face and it simply made Santana chuckle softly.

“I’m just going to be sitting here studying. You’re welcome to stay, but it’s gonna be boring.”

“What are you studying?” Brittany asked, looking interested. She even sat up a little straighter.

Santana frowned at the sudden behaviour change. “History. I have a test after lunch.”

“Me too, I think.”

Santana blinked in surprise. “I’m pretty sure we don’t have any classes together.”

“No, I have History the last period of the day,” Brittany explained, her gaze fixed on the table.

Santana chewed on her bottom lip. Before she could let her logic tell her that it was a bad idea, she asked, “Do you want to study together? We could quiz each other.”

Brittany shrugged. “What’s it on, anyway?”

Santana’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“I never listen in class.”

“Um, at the risk of sounding like a shrink, don’t you think you should maybe start? If you want to get into a good school out of Ohio, they’ll be looking at more than your cheerleading for a scholarship.”

The look that Brittany gave her unsettled her. It was like she could see into her soul. Santana shivered uncontrollably and shook it off.

_Nothing happened, remember?_

“Okay, well, the quiz is on Imperial Russia,” Santana said, clearing her throat. “Can you remember anything about this section?”

Brittany simply shrugged again. The nonchalance was beginning to irritate Santana.

“Look, Brittany. I have no problem helping you study, but you need to be a little more reciprocal.”

Brittany sat quietly for a few moments, playing with her hands before standing up and moving to the chair next to Santana. Santana inhaled silently as their proximity was suddenly a lot closer than she’d anticipated.

_Focus. Studying. Nothing happened._

Right…

Santana opened her book to the beginning of the section and started explaining Imperial Russia. After a while, she just saw Brittany staring at the page, but she knew that she was listening.

“Um, you may want to write some notes down,” Santana suggested. “You know, have something to refer to later today?”

Brittany shook her head. “Nah, I got it.”

Santana blanched. She covered a quarter of the work already. There was no way that Brittany could possibly have retained everything she’d said. To test her theory, she fired off some revision questions that she’d made up. Brittany got every single one right.

“Brittany, do you have a photographic memory?” she asked curiously.

“What’s that?”

“It’s when you remember something after looking at it only once or twice. But you can remember it with incredibly clarity as though you’re looking it whatever it is in your mind.”

“I guess. I dunno. Maybe?”

“Do you have any idea how lucky you are?” Santana asked incredulously.

Brittany turned her head to look at her. “Why?”

“Do you have any idea what I would give to have a photographic memory? Jesus, studying must be ridiculously easy for you. No wonder you’re still passing even though you don’t do homework.”

Brittany’s eyes narrowed and Santana immediately realised how her comment had sounded. “Brittany, I didn’t mean-“

“You don’t know _anything_ about me, all right? Stop fucking pretending that you do.”

Santana held up her hands in resignation. “It came out wrong. That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Whatever,” Brittany huffed. “I’m over this.”

Santana shrugged. “Fine. Good luck.”

“Whatever,” she said again, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Santana just watched as she walked away. Brittany Pierce was one confusing girl, yet every time she found out something new, it simply made her all that more interesting.

_Not interesting, Lopez. Nothing happened!_

She sighed. Right. Nothing happened…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I created a Brittana discord server if you're interested in talking about all things Brittana! https://discord.gg/fcxjxa2
> 
> ace_hlnwst on all socials :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I repeat...pretty NSFW from now on ;) General warning.
> 
> Also, please remember that this is a multiple pairing fic.

The rest of the week was spent with Brittany dodging and avoiding Santana at all costs. She never once met her eyes, even in Glee Club when they were rehearsing some potential songs for Sectionals. Rachel was baffled by Brittany’s hot and cold approach to Santana, but once Santana told her that they had a weird understanding, she let it drop.

Brittany was in full party planning mode. She was grateful for the distraction. She was grateful for _anything_ that allowed her to _not_ think about Santana every second of the day. God, she was so ready for her party. She was so ready to _feel_ something other than the perpetual pull to Santana and the confusion that went with it.

“Hey, Britt,” she heard someone call her name as she exited the school on Friday afternoon. “I’m looking forward to your party tonight.”

Brittany smiled flirtatiously at Finn. “Save me a dance, big boy.”

“You got it,” he replied with a wink.

Yup, she was definitely getting laid.

* * *

Santana was researching on her laptop for an American History paper she had due the next week when her door burst open suddenly.

“ _Jesús Cristo_!” she yelled, glaring at the intruder.

“Hello to you too,” Rachel smirked, climbing onto the bed and giving her a steamy kiss.

“Wow,” Santana hummed.

Rachel giggled and let her eyes run over Santana. Her lips formed a pout. “Why aren’t you dressed? I told you I was coming by at eight.”

Santana glanced at her watch and raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed, Berry. You’re getting good at this date thing.”

Rachel grinned. “Well, I have a big reward to look forward to.”

Santana arched an eyebrow. “That all I am to you?”

Rachel frowned in confusion and shook her head. “San, you know that isn’t true. We’ve been together three weeks without sex. That’s a record for me. By like two weeks. Trust me, if that was all this was about, I would’ve bolted ages ago.”

Santana smiled. “Good answer,” she murmured and leaned in.

Somehow her laptop ended up closed on the bed and Rachel was pressed against her, their bodies moving ever so slightly against each other, causing Santana to clench her thighs in arousal.

“God, Rachel,” she moaned as Santana’s tongue worked an incredibly sensitive spot in the crook of her neck.

“I want you,” came the husky reply. “I want you so bad it’s almost killing me.”

“I know,” Santana breathed back. “I want you as well.”

Rachel paused and lifted her head so that they could look at each other. “How much longer on our countdown.”

Santana smirked. “Zero,” she whispered and pulled Rachel’s face down, locking their lips around each other and earning a groan of pleasure from Rachel.

Hands became a lot less unencumbered after Santana’s acquiescence. Rachel’s quickly found their way under her shirt, her fingers skirting softly over the hot skin. It made Santana’s heart race. Her hands were roaming up and down Rachel’s thighs and over her ass. Surprise, surprise. Santana was definitely a legs and ass girl.

Rachel slipped a thigh between Santana’s and ground down hard.

“Oh, Jesus,” Santana gasped, breaking their kiss. “Fuck, that felt amazing. Do it again.”

Rachel smirked and repeated her previous motion, her eyes darkening at the sound of Santana’s very sexy moan.

“You are the sexiest girl in this whole fucking town,” she growled in Santana’s ear, nipping the earlobe.

“Girls, aren’t you going- _Jesús Cristo_!” Carmen squealed, covering her eyes.

_Seriously? Great timing, Mom._

“Something I can help you with, Mami?” Santana asked flippantly, her hands ensuring that a wide-eyed Rachel wasn’t going to go anywhere. She squirmed in discomfort. Ironically, she moved against Santana in all the right places.

“ _Mija_ , I appreciate that you’re adhering to the open-door policy, but could you refrain from making it so easy for someone to walk in on you?” Carmen asked in exasperation.

“So…can I close my door?” Santana asked cheekily.

Carmen sighed and gave her a withering look. “You get one free pass, _mija_. Learn to control yourself.”

Carmen pulled the door closed and Santana immediately latched her lips back onto Rachel’s.

“Wait, wait,” Rachel protested.

“You’re kidding, right?” Santana replied disbelieving.

“Well, did your mom… Did she just give us permission to have sex?”

“You sound so surprised. After spending so much time with my family, you’d think you’d have realised that we don’t really have a filter. Plus, we’re Latina. We’re hot-blooded. We need passion in our lives. And you, my Cherry Berry, are fortunate enough to be invited to join me in our imminent passion-induced coma.”

* * *

Rachel blushed and allowed Santana to kiss her again. Santana rolled them over and Rachel’s breathing hitched as she slipped a leg between hers and rocked her hips down.

Rachel moaned in pleasure and made quick work of lifting Santana’s shirt over her head. She dropped her mouth onto the newly exposed skin and felt Santana shiver above her. Reaching behind her, she unclipped Santana’s bra and let it fall off the side of the bed. Her hands immediately circled Santana’s amazing boobs and she squeezed gently, brushing her thumbs over the nipples.

“Jesus,” Santana breathed into Rachel’s neck, her hips still rocking.

“I need to feel your fingers inside me, Santana,” Rachel whispered in her ear. “I’ve been dreaming about it for weeks. You have no idea how wet I am for you right now.”

“Fuck.”

Rachel blinked at the sudden absence of a person above her and rested on her elbows as she watched Santana standing at the foot of the bed – how the hell had she got there so quickly – her eyes not leaving Rachel’s as she slowly unbuttoned her own jeans. Rachel swallowed. It was easily one of the most erotic things she’d ever experienced and she was no stranger to sex. But the way that Santana was looking at her, with such unbridled lust, it made her squeeze her legs tightly together and bite her lip. Santana didn’t miss the movement of her thighs and smirked, slowly shimmying the jeans down her smooth, muscular legs.

“You look like you’re about to come just from watching me,” Santana said in a low husky voice.

Rachel shivered in pleasure. “I’m pretty sure it’s possible,” she breathed in response.

“Hmmm, that’s a theory we’re going to have to test at a later date,” Santana mused, her thumbs hooking around the band of her lacy thong. She held Rachel’s heated gaze and smiled. “I think it’s only fair that you lose some of that clothing. I seem to be a little ahead of you.”

Rachel just nodded and Santana crept back onto the bed, straddling her. Rachel leaned up, kissing her passionately. They made out for a bit, Rachel’s hands running across the naked expanse of Santana's back and legs.

She felt Santana tugging at her top and she broke their kiss to lift her arms so that she could pull it off. Rachel held Santana’s gaze as she reached behind her own back and undid her bra. She smiled at Santana’s sharp intake of breath as her naked chest was exposed.

Santana dove down, her mouth latching onto a nipple immediately. Rachel wasn’t prepared for the sudden assault and arched her back in pleasure. Santana’s hands massaged her breasts as her mouth worked the nipples into stiff peaks.

“Jesus, Santana,” Rachel moaned, unable to hold herself up anymore. She fell back onto the bed and Santana simply followed, her mouth never leaving her chest.

God, that tongue. It was sinful. Sinfully amazing.

Santana trailed kisses down Rachel’s toned body and undid the top button of her jeans. Once again, Rachel was surprised at how quickly Santana switched modes. Before she knew it, her jeans were discarded and her entire body was being pressed into the bed by Santana lying on top of her. They both moaned at their skin meeting so fully for the first time.

“You feel so good,” Rachel whispered, trailing soft kisses over Santana’s cheek and down her neck to her shoulder.

“So do you,” Santana replied breathlessly, her hips rocking a little more fervently. “Hmmm…I think we need a medal for lasting this long,” she added, lowering her mouth to Rachel’s breasts again.

Rachel arched her back and moaned. “Totally. But right now, I _really_ need to feel you, San. Please.”

* * *

Santana smirked at the sound of Rachel begging her. It was totally hot. But she wanted to feel those fingers just as much as Rachel wanted hers. She got off the bed again and pulled her underwear down, wasting no time in hooking her fingers in Rachel’s and pulling them down as well.

“Oh, Jesus,” she murmured, catching a glimpse of how wet Rachel really was. It sent a rush of her own wetness to her core, forcing a little to trickle down her leg.

“Santana, you’d better get that ass on this bed right now before I finish myself off,” Rachel said in exasperation.

Santana obliged, resuming their previous position and starting her hip movement again. Feeling Rachel’s wetness against her thigh was so incredibly hot and it turned Santana on unlike anything else.

“Now,” Rachel whispered desperately.

They moved simultaneously, hands moving between their legs, slipping slightly with all the wetness the two girls had accumulated.

“Oh,” Santana breathed in pleasure, dropping her head to Rachel’s shoulder as she felt Rachel’s fingers sliding between her folds. “Fuck, Rachel.”

“You’re gonna leave me hanging here, Lopez?” Rachel asked, trying to sound snippy, but sounding more desperate than anything else.

“Sorry,” Santana muttered, moving her fingers and immediately feeling Rachel’s teeth nipping her shoulder.

They started rocking together, breathy moans and gasps the only sounds in the room. Santana stepped it up first. She lowered her fingers and slipped into Rachel.

“Oh my God,” they both moaned.

After a few slow, deep movements inside, Rachel seemed to remember that her hand had stilled against Santana and she also slipped two fingers inside.

“So good,” Santana muttered. “Ugh, deeper.”

Rachel obliged and mirrored what Santana was doing. It felt amazing for her so it would obviously feel just as good for Santana. Their rocking became a little more frantic as their thrusts picked up their pace.

“Faster,” Rachel panted, her free arm now buried in Santana’s hair, anchoring them together. Santana grunted in agreement and obliged, quickening her movements.

“Oh, Jesus,” Rachel gasped, feeling her gut pull deliciously tight. “I’m…I’m…San…”

Santana continued her movements, grinding her hips down on her own hand to apply some friction on her clit. She could hear Rachel moaning and felt her body stiffening and then shake slowly in pleasure and after another hard thrust, she followed suit.

They lay like that for a while, trying to catch their breath back.

“Wow,” Rachel breathed, her eyes closed.

“Hmmm,” Santana mumbled in agreement, nuzzling into Rachel’s neck.

“Forget amazing, that was mind-blowing.”

“Worth the wait?”

Rachel smiled and kissed Santana’s sweaty forehead. “Absolutely. Just be warned that I will not be waiting that long again. You’ve given me a taste and now I’m just going to want you all the time.”

Santana chuckled softly, kissing Rachel’s clavicle. “I’m sure that I’ll be one hundred percent okay with that.”

“Awesome.”

They wiggled their hands out of each other without moving too much and Rachel wrapped her arms around Santana’s back.

“You’re not allowed to fall asleep,” she warned, stifling a yawn of her own.

“Just a l’il one,” Santana mumbled.

Rachel chuckled and Santana heard her grab her phone from next to the bed. No doubt she was setting an alarm so that they didn’t sleep the evening away. She didn’t mind – a power nap was exactly what she needed to regain energy for all the sex she planned on having that night.

* * *

The party was in full swing and Brittany spun around dizzyingly. It was definitely a combination of alcohol and, well, spinning around. She laughed loudly and fell back into Finn’s arms as he caught her.

“You’re sush a good dansher,” she mumbled. “So goooood.”

Finn chuckled, placing his hands on Brittany’s hips as they both moved to the beat. “You might be a little drunk, Miss Pierce.”

“And you,” Brittany replied, pointing her finger into his chest, “may be right. But!” she declared, “I don’t care cosh thish ish my party and you and me are gonna go upstairs just now. In a little bit. Soon.”

Finn laughed again and pulled her closer. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

Brittany grinned, proud of herself and pressed herself against the tall football player. She let him guide her hips as she rocked into him. She smirked at the obvious tell of the reaction she was having on him.

“Hey, B!”

Brittany looked up, squinting through her haze of alcohol and saw Rachel waving at her from the doorway.

“Hi!” she squealed, running to say hello. She was totally a good host. She grabbed Rachel in a hug. “You’re short,” she stated.

Rachel laughed and Brittany saw familiar tan arms snake around her waist. Her smile froze. Why was Santana there?

Wait, of course she was there. She was there because _Rachel_ was there. Because they were girlfriends and they went to parties together.

“Babe, you need to dance with me because otherwise my legs are going to be really sore tomorrow,” Brittany heard her husk in Rachel’s ear.

The smirk on Rachel’s face told her way more than she wanted to know. So it had happened. They’d finally slept together. Brittany hated that the ridiculous amount of alcohol in her system still couldn’t stop that hurt feeling from crawling into her chest.

_Nothing happened, remember?_

Brittany swallowed and for the first time since Monday, her eyes locked with Santana’s. She was taken aback at the look of faded curiosity that she saw. It was suddenly very clear to Brittany. Santana had forgotten what had happened between them just like she’d wanted.

_She’s forgotten and now she’s sleeping with Rachel. Awesome._

Brittany spun on her heel and walked quickly to the dance floor where Finn was dancing with a Cheerio. She grabbed his arm and pulled him upstairs with her.

She didn’t want Santana. Not anymore. And she was going to fuck Finn Hudson to kingdom come to prove it.

* * *

Santana watched as Brittany dragged an eager Finn up the stairs, not even bothering to wait until she reached her bedroom before kissing him hard. She pulled her mouth into a thin line and shook her head. Brittany was one confusing girl. One that she wasn’t planning on ever figuring out. She smiled to herself. Her amazing evening with Rachel had simply solidified that for her.

“What are you thinking about with that proud smile,” Rachel asked, poking the arms around her waist. She leaned her head back against Santana’s shoulder.

“Oh, you know, just how I made you come three times in a row,” Santana whispered in her ear. “I’m really glad you got the model with the back seat.”

“Oh,” Rachel breathed, loudly enough for only Santana to hear.

“I’m definitely looking forward to testing our stamina in this arena of our relationship,” Santana continued in a casual tone, as though she were speaking about the weather.

She heard Rachel whimper and grinned. Her hands started moving against Rachel’s stomach and she started rocking her hips to the music.

“I mean, first the bed, then the shower, then the bed again, then that magical triple in the back seat of your car. Hmmm. Rachel, I may just become addicted to you.”

Rachel spun around and pushed Santana roughly against the nearest wall, her eyes flashing with want.

“I’m going to make you _beg_ for me tonight,” Rachel said in a low voice, her lips curling into a challenging smile. “In a few hours, you’ll be crawling after me, willing to do anything just to feel my tongue.”

Santana smirked. “You’re on, baby.”

Rachel leaned up and their lips sealed the bet.

_This party is definitely going to be interesting._

* * *

Brittany rolled onto her back and smiled satisfactorily. Her body was humming with pleasure from the amazing orgasm she’d just had.

Yup. She was totally straight. Finn was totally the reason for the way she was feeling.

“Britt, that was…” Finn said breathlessly next to her.

“Hmmm,” Brittany hummed. “We should make this a regular thing.”

“What, like dating?”

Brittany snapped her head towards him. “ _No_ , not like dating.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was referring to the awesome sex we just had. And should keep having.”

“What, so like fuck buddies or something?”

Brittany shrugged nonchalantly. “Whatever.”

“Yeah, okay,” Finn eventually said.

“Awesome,” Brittany responded, yawning. “Now get out. I need a power nap.”

She didn’t even wait until Finn was out the door before she was deeply asleep.

* * *

Santana rocked her hips into Rachel’s as they danced late into the night. The touches were anything but innocent, the gazes full of lust. But they hadn’t kissed since they’d made their deal. As much as Santana _really_ wanted to find a dark room and fuck Rachel senseless – _again_ – her pride was preventing her. She was determined to win the bet.

Santana spun around to face Rachel and, whilst keeping a seductive eye lock, shimmied slowly up and down her body. Santana didn’t really consider herself sexy in that way; she figured she was sexy in the confident-I-don’t-take-no-shit kinda way. Not sexy like Rachel was. Or Br-

 _What the fuck, Lopez_. _See that hot piece of ass in front of you, ready to devour you with that look in her eyes? Remember your girlfriend? The one you had sex with not three hours ago?_

Santana turned Rachel around and Rachel happily obliged with grinding back into her. Santana grinned at the sensations it brought. She was definitely struggling to maintain her composure, but she was _really_ stubborn. And competitive.

She happened to glance up and saw Brittany descending the stairs. She’d seen Finn come down a while ago with a smug look on his face so she could guess what had happened.

_Whatever. She’s straight._

Her eyes briefly ran over Brittany’s new attire. She was wearing short jean shorts with a wife beater, leaving one shoulder teasingly bare. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

 _It doesn’t matter how hot she looks. Rachel’s putty in your hands. And she’s your girlfriend. G-I-R-L-F-R-I-E-N-D_.

Santana dropped her lips to Rachel’s ear and squeezed her hips as she whispered, “How much do you want to fuck me right now?”

She felt Rachel still momentarily and could tell that she’d had a little shiver of something akin to pleasure run through her body.

“You know, Rach. You could just give in now and let me worship your glorious body with my tongue.” Rachel definitely froze and her chest started to heave with quick breaths. “And my fingers,” Santana continued, “and my…pussy.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Rachel muttered, spinning around and grabbing Santana’s neck, pulling their lips together.

The kissing was frantic and needy and they both ignored the cheers around them.

“Upstairs,” Rachel demanded, her eyes leaving no room for discussion. “ _Now_.”

Santana just nodded numbly and let Rachel pull her up the stairs and into a different room.

She slammed the door closed, locking it and pushed Santana onto the bed.

“Excuse me, Berry, but I do believe that it was I who-“

“Shut up.”

Rachel’s tone caused Santana’s eyes to widen slightly and she fell back onto the bed, tightening her thighs as she did so. God, Rachel being dominant was _so_ sexy.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Lopez.” Her voice was calm, a direct contrast to her hot skin and thudding heart. “You’re going to undress yourself and then me. Then I’m going to straddle you and ride your fingers until I come.”

“Holy Christ Jesus, holy moly,” Santana muttered. Best. Sex. Ever.

“And _then_ , once you’re all riled up, I’m going to go down on you.”

“Oh God,” Santana squeaked.

Rachel hadn’t done that yet. She had. Twice. And it had been beyond awesome. Considering how much she loved the feeling of Rachel’s tongue in her mouth, the thought of it running in and around and over her throbbing core just made her wetter.

Rachel’s expectant look reminded her that she had a task to do. She quickly stripped off her top and skirt (don’t ask – Rachel’s idea of easy access) and rid herself of her underwear. She found her palms sweating as she watched Rachel drink in her naked body. It was incredibly arousing. And intoxicating.

Santana slowly scooted to the edge of the bed and met her girlfriend’s eyes shyly. Their eyes locked and never left each other as Santana undressed Rachel. It was a different kind of energy, softer than the sex-fuelled passion that they’d been drunk on for the last few hours, but just as powerful.

“You’re beautiful,” Rachel murmured, trailing a finger across Santana’s cheek. “So very _hermoso_.”

Santana blushed. “ _Gracias. Pero tú eres la bella._ ”

Rachel’s eyes fluttered closed and Santana removed the last item of clothing before she stood naked in front of her.

”It is _so_ sexy when you speak Spanish when we’re about to have sex,” she mumbled, slowly climbing onto the bed, giving Santana a very clear view of her wet pussy.

Santana swallowed and rested her hands on the thighs she enjoyed so much as she guided Rachel to straddle her.

“It’s especially sexy when you speak Spanish _during_ sex,” Rachel husked, grabbing Santana’s bottom lip between her teeth and nibbling on it. She wasn’t doing it lightly either. It pulled an involuntary groan from Santana.

“Fingers, now,” Rachel demanded before thrusting her tongue inside Santana’s mouth.

Santana tried to keep up with Rachel’s furious kissing and still find a way to position her fingers in the right place. It wasn’t easy because Rachel’s kisses were extremely distracting, but she eventually found where she needed to be and started coating two fingers in the abundant wetness gathered on Rachel’s hot pussy.

“You really do not want to be teasing me right now,” Rachel warned. “Because I can guarantee you that I can keep you on the edge for an hour with just my tongue between your legs.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Santana replied, finally remembering her bantering voice.

“Hmmm, I bet you are,” Rachel smirked before lifting her hips and lowering them on the three fingers that Santana had ready for her.

It didn’t take them long to get into a rhythm. Not much build up was necessary, but Santana was determined to take Rachel as high as she could so she always slowed her pace when she could feel Rachel getting close.

“Jesus Christ, Santana. Do that again and I swear you’ll never feel me down there,” Rachel said vehemently between gasps.

She was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and Santana slowly picked up the pace again, succumbing to Rachel’s demand. She ran her tongue over Rachel’s shoulder and licked the salty skin gently. Rachel definitely seemed to like it because the fingers that were gripping her hips tightly dug into her skin at the sensation.

“You taste awesome,” Santana murmured, flicking her wrist back and forth.

“Aaaah,” Rachel shuddered and rocked her hips harder. She rested her forehead on Santana’s shoulder as she started to curl her fingers and push them deeper and deeper inside with every thrust of Rachel’s hips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rachel panted, her pitch increasing with every ‘fuck’.

“Come for me,” Santana whispered, kissing her cheek softly.

Rachel cried out as her body went rigid, her nails surely leaving long-lasting marks on Santana’s skin. Santana wrapped her free arm around Rachel as she shook every few seconds. She kept her fingers moving slightly to bring her down.

“Oh, wow,” Rachel murmured, her head still resting on Santana’s shoulder. “I am _so_ glad your fingers are yours.”

Santana laughed. Even though it made no sense, she understood what Rachel meant.

“Oh, wow. Just give a few moments, San.”

Santana just smiled and continued kissing Rachel’s exposed shoulder, neck and face. Suddenly, she felt two hands on her breasts and her back was flush against the bed. Rachel was immediately hovering over her, a devilish glint in her eye.

“Payback’s a bitch, Lopez. You’re gonna be screaming my name. And it won’t be soon.”

Santana’s legs twitched in anticipation and her heart started to race even more than it already was. She honestly had never felt like this during sex and it was absolutely thrilling.

Rachel leaned down for a few deep kisses before leaving Santana’s mouth to trail kisses down her body. She wasn’t kidding when she said she could tease.

 _Ugh, note to self: Never,_ ever _, tease Rachel in bed again. EVER!_

After what felt like hours of dancing around Santana’s aching core, Rachel finally ran her tongue from entrance to clit and Santana felt like she’d died and gone to heaven.

* * *

Brittany frowned at the dwindling guests. There were several people passed out on her couch. She walked past and gave them each a resounding kick. Within five minutes, they were all out the front door.

Finn and a few of the football guys were playing flip cup and Brittany left them to it as she walked through the house, assessing the damage. She was definitely not looking forward to cleaning the after party disaster up.

She scrunched up her nose and arched an eyebrow at a pink bra lying over an empty vodka bottle.

“Well, definitely not mine,” she muttered, tossing it aside. She knew she had a tendency to get a little stripper-like when she’d had too much to drink.

 _Well, there_ were _activities that didn’t require clothes._

She giggled. This party had achieved exactly what she’d wanted it to. She was straight. She was _definitely_ into dick, and she was still the undisputed top bitch at McKinley.

Yawning, Brittany made her way up the stairs and froze when she heard a moan. She frowned. She knew what a sexual moan sounded like.

_Ugh, someone’s getting freaky in the guest room!_

She tried the door, but it was locked. She rolled her eyes.

“Stupid fucking teenagers, thinking they can come into my house and fuck anywhere,” she muttered, stalking into her room and opening the adjoining door from her room to the guest room.

She froze, her hand tightening around the door knob.

_Holy Jesus motherfucker._

Santana was flat on her back, buck naked and someone – she assumed Rachel – was between her legs. Whatever Rachel was doing was making Santana arch her back and moan in pleasure.

Brittany hated that she had to clench her thighs at the sound and the sight.

Right, she was watching. She really shouldn’t be watching. She _really_ should stop watching.

_Something is seriously wrong with you, Pierce._

“Jesus, Rach, I can’t take it anymore,” Santana groaned, tangling her hand in Rachel’s hair and pushing her deeper between her legs.

Brittany had to bite her lip from moaning out loud.

_Stop fucking looking!_

“You’ve been building me for an hour,” Santana gasped. “Please, baby, please let me come.”

Brittany was floored. Hearing Santana beg was incredibly sexy and incredibly weird. She always pegged her to be a top and yet Rachel was so obviously dominating her.

Santana’s breathing became laboured and very audible. A moan escaped with every exhalation and the pitch went higher and higher until Brittany’s eyes widened. Santana’s back arched, her breasts so very tempting and on offer. She let out a strangled cry and collapsed on the bed, twitching and shaking, breathing hard.

Brittany’s breathing matched Santana’s and she quickly pulled the door closed behind her, somehow remembering to close it quietly.

_Holy Jesus, oh my God._

Brittany started pacing and the movement of her legs made her realise how wet she was. Like _really_ wet. She knew her body. Masturbation was never gonna get rid of this need. It was big. Like…Finn big.

Brittany ran downstairs and grabbed Finn’s arm, not even bothering to explain as she dragged him up the stairs and into her bedroom.

She threw him on the bed and gave him a look. He didn’t need to be told twice and quickly threw his clothes on the floor. Brittany undressed in lightning speed and climbed on top of him.

“What-“

“Don’t say anything,” Brittany said sharply, lowering herself onto Finn.

Her eyes fluttered closed in pleasure at the feeling of being filled.

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” Finn murmured, his hands resting on Brittany’s hips, encouraging her to move.

Brittany ignored him and kept her eyes closed, rocking her hips against Finn’s thrusts. She focused on each burst of pleasure as his cock hit her G-spot.

She let out a moan and ground down particularly hard, feeling blissfully happy as her orgasm washed over her. Finn kept pumping into her and eventually rolled her onto her back. Brittany groaned again and wrapped her legs around him.

“Uh, fuck, keep going,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes closed.

It came unbidden. The flash of tan skin against hers, those pouty lips massaging her own, the indescribably erotic feeling of their bodies pressed together so tightly.

“Fuuuuuuck!” Brittany screamed, coming harder than she ever had in her life, with the image of Santana at the forefront of her mind.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I REPEAT. This shit is NSFW :)

_Brittany jerked in her sleepy state as she felt something moving along her bare leg. She scrunched up her nose as she slowly woke._

_“Hey, you,” a husky voice whispered in her ear._

_Brittany smiled and hummed, turning into the thick hair next to her on the pillow and inhaling deeply._

_There was a low chuckle. “Did I tire you out, Britt?”_

_Brittany simply nodded and moulded her body into her companion's._

_“Too tired for another round?” the same voice teased._

Yeah, right _._

_Brittany immediately straddled her bed mate and fused their lips together. The moan that rumbled deep in her throat seemed to give her lover some adrenaline and she soon found herself flat on her back, a warm tongue tracing intricate patterns in that special spot on her neck that made her toes curl._

_“You're so fucking hot, Britt. You have no idea how wet you make me.”_

Wet? They mean hard, right? Boys don't get wet.

_Brittany fluttered her eyes open and her breath caught as deep brown eyes looked down at her with a smile._

_“S-S-Santana?”_

_“You were expecting someone else?”_

_Before Brittany could answer, Santana dipped her head and kissed her tenderly. It made Brittany's insides do somersaults and the tightness between her legs just grew exponentially._

_She heard herself whimper as Santana's tongue moved slowly down her body. Brittany couldn't control her body's responses and she gasped, her lungs robbed of all breath when she felt a warm pressure between her folds._

_“Now this seems a little unfair.”_

_Brittany's eyes flew open and saw Rachel, stark naked, standing at the foot of the bed._

_“Hey, baby,” Santana murmured._

_Brittany almost whimpered at the absence of Santana's tongue between her legs and simply watched as Rachel kissed Santana._

_“I don't think she wanted you to stop,” Rachel murmured, inclining her head to Brittany, who was lying completely exposed on the bed._

_“Honestly, I kinda didn't want to,” Santana admitted, climbing back on top of Brittany, rolling her hips against her. “But I kinda really want you to fuck me too, Rach.”_

_“That can be arranged,” Rachel replied, like it was no big deal._

_Santana grinned and rolled Brittany on top of her. “Sit up. Shuffle to my face,” she whispered._

_Brittany's body obeyed. It was like she had no control. She swallowed in anticipation as she positioned her legs on either side of Santana's head. They held steamy eye contact until Santana lifted her head to stroke her tongue slowly and deliberately along Brittany's slit._

_“Oh, fuuuuck,” Brittany moaned, her hips bucking down into Santana's face._

_Santana's tongue continued its talented assault on her sex and she was soon a shivering mess, the amount of pleasure Santana was giving her rendering her completely useless._

_She felt Santana shake slightly beneath her and she was forced to withdraw her tongue to take quick breaths. The quick bursts of air from Santana's mouth hit her clit directly, sending shivers down her spine._

_Santana's fingers dug into Brittany's thighs where she was gripping her and Brittany twisted around to see Rachel paying careful attention to Santana's core, clearly driving her crazy._

_“San,” Brittany moaned. She'd been so close and now she felt the tension in her tummy slowly unwinding._

_“Fuck, sorry, Britt baby.”_

_Brittany smiled. She like how that sounded coming from Santana's mouth. And now that mouth was back where it felt like it belonged and Brittany immediately started rocking her hips again._

_“Santanaaaaaa,” Brittany moaned, that peak coming ever closer._

_She felt Santana shaking violently beneath her, her back arching slightly and lifting Brittany onto her knees. The new angle allowed her to dive inside Brittany with her tongue and Brittany had honestly never felt anything so wonderful._

_She felt someone moving behind her and two hands came around her taut stomach to pinch her nipples. The sensation went straight to her throbbing clit and Brittany's breath became even more ragged._

_“Oh...oh my...oh...fuck...Saaaaan,” she eventually cried out, knowing that one last thrust would send her into that ultimate bliss that she longed for._

* * *

Brittany jolted awake to the sound of her bedroom door slamming open.

“Who's Santana?” her brother, Jeremy, asked with a smirk.

“Who?” Brittany asked breathlessly, thankful that her duvet covered the definite arousal that she felt.

“You just called out her name.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Did too.”

“You're hearing things,” Brittany snapped. “Why are you even in here? You know the rules when Mom and Dad aren't here. And it's Sunday. You know not to bug me on Sundays.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Kyla and I are hungry. It's almost noon. You need to make us lunch.”

“Make it yourself,” Brittany grumbled, flopping back into her pillows. It was then that she realised how sweaty she was. Her tank top was sticking to her damp skin and her sleep shorts were very uncomfortable.

“Make us lunch or I'm gonna tell Mom,” Jeremy said snippily.

“You know what?” Brittany suddenly yelled, sitting up again, her eyes blazing.

Jeremy actually looked a little scared.

“Just order pizza, brat. I'll give you money when it gets here.”

Her brother nodded and closed the door quietly. Brittany sighed in relief and pulled her duvet over her head, squeezing her eyes closed as the extremely vivid dream danced around in her head.

“What the _fuck_ , Pierce?” she mumbled to herself.

Not only had she had the _hottest_ sex dream ever, but it had starred her best friend and her best friend's girlfriend. In a threesome. With her.

“This is so fucked up,” Brittany sighed. She felt so helpless that she wanted to cry.

Why couldn't she forget Santana? And why the hell had Rachel guest starred in a dream she would have much preferred stay with just her and Santana.

_Ha! You just admitted that you wanted her._

Brittany frowned. After Friday night's intense orgasm, she'd reluctantly succumbed to the fact that Santana _did_ things to her. To her body, to her mind...to her heart. It was ridiculous. She _couldn't_. She was straight. She was. She...

She _had_ to be.

* * *

Santana stared at her computer screen with a frown on her face, causing her glasses to perpetually slip down her face. With a huff of irritation, she pushed them back up and her eyes focused on the browser open on her laptop. Her finger was hovering over the close button, but her eyes kept darting to Brittany's profile picture.

She was Facebook stalking Brittany fucking Pierce.

 _God, what is_ wrong _with you?_

A knock on her door made her jump. Her hand slipped and she minimised the page instead.

“Come in,” she called, wincing at her croaky voice.

“Hey, hey, Santa!”

Santana grinned widely and left her laptop on her bed as she jumped into Gina's open arms.

“Oh my God, it is _so_ good to see you!” Santana said, her voice muffled in her aunt's shoulder.

“You too.” Gina pulled away and smiled down at her niece. Santana knew she could see the faint circles under her eye and the worry lines seemingly permanently etched into her forehead. She frowned slightly. “ _Está todo bien, sobrina_?”

Santana took a slow and calculating breath in. She knew that she could confide in Gina. She’d been such a pillar of strength for Santana when she was coming to terms with her sexuality. She looked up to her and trusted her implicitly.

“Gina, I'm...confused.”

Gina's eyes registered surprise. “We're not talking about a trip back into the flannel closet, are we?”

“Jesus, _no_ ,” Santana said with a humourless laugh. “I think that would be easier, actually.”

“Uh oh,” Gina said knowingly, moving to Santana's bed. “Girl trouble. Come and sit with me, _sobrina_.”

Santana sighed and joined her on the bed. Gina lifted the laptop and handed it to her. Santana figured that it would be as good a place to start as any. She opened the browser again and clicked to enlarge Brittany's profile picture.

“Nice,” Gina commented with a smirk.

Santana pointed on her screen. “This is Rachel, my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Santa, you've been holding out on me!” Gina said in mock outrage. She nudged her shoulder affectionately. “She's cute.”

It made Santana smile. “Yeah.” She moved her finger. “This is her best friend. Brittany.”

Gina studied the picture for a moment and then looked at Santana's face. “Oh, dear,” she murmured. “What happened?”

Santana spilled everything – their fight, Brittany's confession, their heart-to-hearts, the mindblowing make out session-that-almost-became-something-a-LOT-more, and her ostentatious behaviour at her party.

“What do you want?” Gina eventually asked, once she'd let the whole story sink in.

Santana sighed. “Rachel's amazing. I love being with her. We have incredible chemistry. It's not like I'm _not_ attracted to her because I am. A lot.”

“But?”

“But...I don't know what it is about Brittany. What happened in the sauna was the most intense attraction I have ever had to someone but she told me she doesn't care what happened between us. She's pretty much pretending that it didn't happen.”

“Is that why you haven't told Rachel?”

Santana nodded. “Partly. I don't want to hurt Rachel. She's done so much for me. I just... It's not like I feel indebted to her or anything. I mean, I do, but that's not why I'm staying with her. I do really care about her.” She took a deep breath as she tried to find the right words. “Brittany is convinced that she's straight. And hell, maybe she is. I don't know her well enough to say otherwise. I mean, why should I break up with an amazing girl for someone who doesn't even know what she wants?”

“I repeat, what do _you_ want?”

“I don't want drama. I don't want someone who can't be honest with herself. Rachel is completely comfortable in her own skin. She's comfortable with me, with my family. I've even met her dads and-”

“Hold up, _dads_?”

“Yeah, she's got gay dads.”

Gina pondered for a while. “Santana, it sounds like you've made your decision so why are you looking at Brittany's profile picture?”

“Because I...” Santana huffed in frustration and ran a hand through her hair. “When I started high school, I had the biggest crush on Brittany. I seriously thought I was in love. It was weird. It lasted for about four months until she showed her true colours and then I just kinda lost respect for her.”

“So are you still crushing on her?” Gina asked.

“No, I don't think it's that,” Santana mused. “I think it's more like temptation. Like I'm Eve, Rachel's Adam and Brittany's the apple.”

“Wow, that's actually a great analogy,” Gina chuckled.

“Yeah, well, I've been thinking about this a lot.”

“Answer me this, _sobrina_. If Brittany's on your mind so much, why is there a hickey the size of Texas on your neck? I'm pretty sure she didn't give it to you.”

Santana blushed and automatically pulled the collar of her shirt up. “No, that was Rachel. We, uh...”

“Yeah, I don't need details, kiddo,” Gina said quickly, holding up her hands. “You know that I was hardly the poster child for celibacy in high school.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Santana muttered. “Thing is, both Rachel and I are very sexual beings. Not like bunnies or anything. Well, maybe Rachel, but we like looking and feeling sexy. So when the attraction ignited between us, things were bound to get heated. And then the fight happened and we couldn't do anything until Friday night.”

“The party?”

Santana nodded. “Yeah. Well, technically before the party.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Definitely not. It was amazing. Way better than I could have ever imagined.”

“Well, that's good, right?” Gina said with an encouraging smile. “You didn't, uh...you, um, didn't think about-”

Santana's eyes widened. “Jesus, no! Gina, I may be a little fucked up, but I'm not _that_ fucked up. No, she never once entered my head when I was with Rachel.”

“So what does that tell you?”

Santana nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I know. I guess that whatever this... _thing_ is with Brittany, I just have to accept that it's in the past. It was a mistake. I know it was a seriously bad judgement call on my part and I do regret cheating on Rachel.”

“With her best friend,” Gina added.

Santana winced. “Yeah, with her best friend. As hot as it may have been, what I have with Rachel is...it's _real_. Brittany almost seems like a dream now. Like it didn't even really happen.”

“Careful, Santa.”

“No, look, I'm not naive. It did happen. I know it did. But what I have with Rachel overshadows that. Our relationship, although unexpected and unorthodox, works perfectly for us. We match each other on every level. She doesn't take my shit and I don't take hers. We fight and bicker and laugh and cuddle and have really amazing sex.”

“Ew. Really did _not_ need to hear that,” Gina said with a grimace, putting her hands over her ears.

Santana chuckled. “Come on. I called you at one am the night I lost my virginity. You didn't seem to mind all the details then.”

“That's because you're my Santa and I love you and you sounded so scared, but so happy. I wanted you to feel comfortable with your decision.”

“Yeah, I know. That's why you’re my favouritest gay aunt.”

“I'm your only gay aunt,” Gina countered good-naturedly. It was a game they often played.

“And if it weren't for you, I never would've had the courage to come out when I did.”

Gina put an arm around Santana and squeezed. “Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too.”

“So, are you okay now? Are things a little clearer in your head?”

Santana nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so. Brittany was a mistake. I definitely see that now and she certainly believes that it was. Rachel's important to me and my focus is on our relationship.”

“Good, I'm really glad to hear that. So when do I get to meet this Rachel girl? I mean, if she managed to land the elusive Santana Lopez, she had better be awesome or else.”

“Hey, be nice. That's my super sexy girlfriend you're talking about.”

“Who, me?”

Santana turned at the sound of Rachel's voice.

_Shit! Crap! How long has she been standing there? Did she hear me say that Brittany was a mistake? Fuck!_

“Hey, baby,” Santana said carefully, shooting her a smile. “When did you get here?”

“Like two seconds ago. Is this Gina?” Rachel asked, stepping into the room.

 _Phew. So she didn't hear anything. Right?_ _God, I hope so. I really don't want to hurt her._

“What a pleasure to finally meet the girl who's managed to rein the youngest and wildest Lopez in,” Gina said with a genuine smile, holding out her hand.

Rachel laughed and shook the proffered hand. “She definitely didn't make it easy, but I think she's worth it.”

Santana blushed and looked down at her hands.

“Aw, you've rendered her speechless. And decimated the myth that Latin people don't blush,” Gina teased, laughing.

“Shut up,” Santana mumbled.

“You know, I really could tease you relentlessly about this, but I won't.”

“Oh, and what do you want from me?” Santana smirked, her confidence bouncing back quickly.

“I can list a few things,” Rachel purred, giving Santana a look that told her _exactly_ what she wanted.

“Okeeeee, I'm gonna go and grab a chainsaw downstairs cos that's the only way I'm gonna cut through all this sexual tension.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Gina,” Rachel said with a small smile as the older woman walked out the room.

“And you, Rachel. Lunch in thirty, ladies!”

Rachel met Santana's eyes again and smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Santana replied, crooking a finger. “Get your sexy ass over here.”

Within three seconds they were making out furiously.

* * *

Brittany strolled around the grocery store, munching on a protein bar. Jeremy and Kyla were giggling and running around, generally being their normal irritating-as-shit selves.

_Little brats._

Her parents had called that afternoon and instructed her to go shopping with the twins for food for that week. Her parents normally did that every Sunday evening, but they were in London for another ten days so Brittany had to fill in. No doubt the twins would tattle if she didn't adhere to the strict instructions left by her control freak mother.

Which was why she was aimlessly wandering around the grocery store, letting the twins run rampant, choosing all sorts of junk food. She didn't care. She gave them what they wanted and they stayed out of her way. She hit the magazine aisle and perused through the lastest _Vogue_ as Kyla ran full on into the cart, rocking the eggs she held in her hand.

“Don't break them, moron,” she snapped. “Mom won't be pleased if I have to buy extra things because you're clumsy.”

“You're mean,” Kyla huffed, putting the eggs in the cart and stalking away.

Brittany rolled her eyes. Her sister was so dramatic. She wasn't mean. She just gave them tough love. Coach Em always said that coddling bred idiots. And no way was Brittany going to let the Pierce name suffer because her brother and sister shared a brain cell.

A familiar laugh floated over from the next aisle and Brittany gripped the magazine until her knuckles turned white.

“I found some cherry chapstick!”

“Babe, I need Cherry Berry chapstick.”

“What do you need that for when you have me?”

She heard Santana laugh again. “Definitely. Nothing beats the original.”

A phone went off and Santana answered it, talking in Spanish.

_It really does sound incredibly sexy._

Rachel had mentioned that Santana speaking Spanish in that low husky voice of hers was very, _very_ sexy. Brittany had to agree.

Wait. No, she didn't! She didn't have to agree with anything that Rachel said about Santana. She didn't have to listen to how perfect Santana was for hours on end.

_Because you already know how she kisses and how soft her skin is and how sexy that low voice is when-_

Fuck.

Brittany shook her head and frowned. She couldn't do this. She _wouldn't_ do this. Not anymore. Santana was Rachel's girlfriend. Rachel was her best friend. Santana would never be _anything_ but her best friend's girlfriend.

_Whom you now think about with your hand down your pants._

Brittany involuntarily flushed at the memory of her dream and of what she'd witnessed on Friday night. Closing her eyes didn't help because Santana would be there, behind her eyes, smiling that sexy smile and looking at her with unbridled lust.

 _Jesus Christ, Britt! What the hell is wrong with you? You just said that Santana is_ Rachel's _girl. You are not allowed to be thinking about her in any way other than platonic._

Brittany agreed. She just wished that it wasn't so damn hard to not think about Sant-

“Hey, Britt.”

Brittany snapped back to the present and her eyes widened.

“S-Santana. Um, what are you doing here?”

_Squeaky voice. Yeah, you're sooooo subtle._

Santana held up the ice cream in her hands. “My mom forgot dessert. Emergency run.”

“Oh, okay.”

_Why does she have to be so fucking gorgeous?_

No. Santana wasn't gorgeous. She was just Santana. Platonic Santana.

“That's, um, an interesting array of groceries you got there,” Santana said with a smile.

Brittany couldn't help but roll her eyes. “The twins' idea of nourishment.”

“Which you clearly seem to be discouraging.”

“They leave me alone and I give them what they want.”

Santana frowned and Brittany's natural defences were about to spring up, but Jeremy came sliding past on his socks.

“Where are your shoes?” Brittany snapped.

“Kyla has them,” Jeremy replied with a smile. His cheeks were tinged red. He'd obviously discovered his new activity a while ago. He stopped next to Santana. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I'm Santana.”

“Santana?” Jeremy asked curiously, looking up at Brittany.

Brittany’s eyes widened as she remembered what Jeremy had heard her moan that morning.

“Jem, go and grab some steaks. I'll grill them tomorrow night,” she said quickly.

“You? Cook?” Jeremy asked in disbelief.

Santana giggled.

“Maybe not for you, twerp. That doesn't mean I can't. You have to be nice to me.”

“You have to be nice to me then,” Jeremy countered, looking like a smaller version of their dad with a defiant expression on his face and his arms crossed.

“Hmmm, can't promise that. Guess I'll be having steak tomorrow night all by myself,” Brittany sang, a smirk on her face.

“Fine,” Jeremy grumbled, walking away.

Brittany chuckled to herself and put the magazine back on the shelf.

“Are you always like that with them?” Santana asked.

Brittany shrugged. “They're brats. We have an understanding with each other.”

“Okay,” Santana said, but didn't sound convinced.

Brittany felt her temper flare. “Stop doing that,” she said in a low voice through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, Brittany, I didn't-”

“Hi!” Rachel sang, cutting Santana off. She flung her arms around her and kissed her cheek. “Oh, hey, B.”

Brittany exhaled. “Hey.” she was glad it came out calm.

“Shopping with the brats?”

She simply nodded.

“Um, babe, we should probably get this back to my house before it melts,” Santana said quietly, gesturing at the ice cream in her hands.

“Okay,” Rachel replied with a big smile. “I'll go pay for it. See you tomorrow, B!”

“Bye,” Brittany muttered.

That left Santana hanging back. “Look, Brittany, I-”

She just held up a hand. “Forget it. Just...try and control yourself.”

_Ha! That is so rich coming from you._

Brittany really didn't like her conscience.

Santana nodded in understanding. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“You too.”

Brittany watched her as she walked away. Her sweatpants fit snugly, accentuating her really sexy ass.

She closed her eyes and shook her head, immediately bombarded with images of her hands on that naked ass and the sounds that Santana had made when she'd squeezed it.

“Fuck,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair in frustration. “Pull yourself together, Pierce. You need to get your head in the game. Forget her! Forget it happened. Forget it.”

“Who are you talking to?” Kyla asked curiously.

Brittany jumped a little, startled by her little's sister sudden appearance. “Uh, nothing. I mean, nobody. C'mon. Let's find your knucklehead brother and rack up Dad's credit card.”

_Forget her._

* * *

“Let's gather round for this week's assignment, guys 'n gals!” Ms. Sylvester called, clapping her hands together eagerly.

“No one's beaten anyone up, right?” Santana asked with a smug grin. “So we're safe from Accountability?”

Brittany rolled her eyes from her spot behind Rachel in the back row and tried really hard to fight the tug on her lips.

“For now, you're safe,” Ms. Sylvester replied with a pointed look.

“Just checking.”

“With Sectionals just over a month away, we need to really knuckle down and polish our performance. Now that we have a few new members, I think we can really spice up our routine.”

_Spice up our routine? Seriously? Stuck in the nineties much, Ms. S?_

“Was that a veiled reference to a nineties girl group sensation?” Santana jumped in. “Oh my God, are we gonna do the Spice Girls?” She started flailing dramatically like a fangirl.

“Baby, relax,” Rachel giggled. “You're so weird.”

“You like it,” Santana murmured, resting her head on Rachel's shoulder.

Brittany watched the exchange and swallowed hard.

“Ms. S would never subject us to that kind of torture, San,” Quinn said matter-of-factly.

“Well, it is a really good idea,” Ms. S mused. “But that's not the assignment for this week.”

“Are things always this dramatic?” Sam whispered to Mercedes.

“Quinn likes to think she's cool, but she's as much of a dork as Dave and Lauren,” Mercedes whispered back.

_And Santana._

Brittany wanted to slap herself. Santana was in her head, all the time, every day, almost every fucking minute. It was driving her crazy. It was driving her even more crazy that she couldn't stop it from happening.

“B?”

She snapped back to reality. “Huh?”

“Did you hear?” Rachel asked with a smile.

Everyone was talking excitedly. Santana was looking at her with interest too.

“Uh, no. More important things to think about,” Brittany replied, tapping the side of her head.

“Like choreographing our entire routine for Sectionals?” Rachel beamed.

“What?”

“Yeah, Ms. S wants you and Finn to choreograph together,” Santana added.

“Oh, well, um, yeah. That's cool.”

“I'll make sure that Mr. Hudson joins us from now on so that the two of you can work together,” Ms. Sylvester said.

Brittany shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Up close and personal with Finn, huh?” Rachel whispered with a wink. “I'm sure you won't mind that.”

Brittany smiled and shook her head. “He has his...uses.”

She tried desperately not to look at Santana when she said that, half wanting to see nonchalance and half (or maybe more) wanting her to be hurt or jealous or _something_.

_Utterly hopeless. It's embarrassing._

Brittany had to agree.

Finn _was_ useful, though. He was a great dance partner, definitely easy on the eyes, had a hot body and he was quite decent between the sheets.

_Like you'd know. You were only thinking about Santana._

She cringed. What did that make her? Thinking about her best friend's girlfriend whilst having sex with a guy?

_You're not gay._

Brittany sighed.

“You okay?”

Santana's voice snapped her back to reality again. It was becoming a habit.

“Fine,” came the short reply.

“You seem to be in your head a lot these days,” she commented quietly.

_Yeah, cos that's where you are._

Brittany ignored the taunting voice and glanced to the empty seat next to Santana. “Where's Rachel?”

“Talking to Ms. S about this week's assignment.”

“What is it?”

“You missed that too, huh?”

Brittany shrugged.

“It's Dance-ability. So should be easy for you and Finn.”

“Hmmm.”

“Okay. I'm gonna go and talk to Quinn where it's slightly less frigid and awkward,” Santana said with a roll of her eyes. She stood up and Brittany's eyes automatically went to her jeans-clad ass.

She moaned quietly and dropped her face into her hands.

She was utterly doomed.

* * *

“So how technical are we talking here?' Rachel asked Ms. Sylvester. “I've had ballet classes before and I'm on Cheerios so we could probably up the difficulty level.”

“Well, that's the beauty of Glee Club,” Ms. Sylvester replied with a smile. “As long as it reflects the assignment, you can do what you want. So this week, it's quite easy.”

Rachel grinned. “Solos? Duets? Group numbers?”

“Easy, Rachel. Focus on one performance. As I said, it's your decision. And also, the music is up to you.”

“Great, I'm gonna rock this,” Rachel replied eagerly.

She knew why she was on a high. Sex with Santana had been everything and more that she'd dreamed of. They'd had the perfect weekend together. Friday night was...beyond amazing. To finally touch Santana and have her touch back. It felt so right.

Rachel grinned as she leaned against the piano and watched Santana joke around with Quinn. Her smile, her laugh, everything about Santana was just perfect. They were perfect together. Her family definitely liked her and Rachel really liked Santana’s family. She felt like she belonged there. Like she belonged with Santana.

Her eyes drifted to Brittany and she blinked in surprise. Brittany was staring at Santana. But it wasn't any kind of malicious staring. It was almost like she was in pain. Rachel frowned in confusion as Brittany's eyes flickered up and down Santana's body when she stood up and stretched and Rachel felt her jaw clench.

Why in the hell was her best friend checking out her girlfriend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ace_hlnwst on socials  
> Join the Brittana Discord Server! https://discord.gg/WUpexmr


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherrrrrrnanigans.

The long moan in her ear set her insides aflame. Never had a singular sound had such a profound effect on her.

_“You feel so good.”_

_Brittany just held the body beneath her tighter and rocked her hips harder, pleasure shooting up her spine with every thrust._

_“Britt…”_

_“Britt…”_

_She buried her face in the now familiar dark locks of the person below her and inhaled._

_“Brittany…”_

_God, that sound. Just the sound was enough to tense her stomach muscles as her release built._

_“Jesus, Brittany!”_

* * *

“Brittany!”

She snapped her eyes open and almost fell off her chair. A hand gripped her arm and helped her back up.

“Are you okay?”

Brittany’s eyes flew to Santana’s curious dark ones. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Yeah, cos the best thing would be to tell your best friend’s girlfriend that you’ve been having numerous sex dreams about her and that every time you have sex with Finn, you picture her face instead of his.

She winced at the very true thought.

“Brittany, are you okay?” Santana asked a little more forcefully. “You’ve been completely out of it this whole week.”

Brittany shrugged. “Just not sleeping well.”

“The twins driving you crazy?” Santana asked, suddenly realising that she was still holding Brittany’s arm and dropping it quickly.

I wish.

“No, they’re fine.”

“Oh.”

The silence was awkward.

“There must be a reason why you fell asleep in the library during lunch, Britt,” Santana pressed gently. “Regardless of the…stuff between us, you can still talk to me.”

Oh, I really, really can’t.

“It’s Finn,” Brittany blurted.

_What??_

“Finn?” Santana asked, her confusion mirroring the same _what the fuck_ her conscience was experiencing.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m tired.”

Pussy.

“Oh.” Santana’s eyes glimmered with understanding and she smiled. Brittany wished it looked more forced, like she hated the idea of her with Finn.

Get over yourself, Pierce. She’s made her choice and you hardly gave her reason to even consider you. Get. Over. It.

“Well, considering the mental incapacities of the jocks in this school, you could definitely have done worse. Finn’s a nice guy, though. He’s probably the only jock who hasn’t ever slushied me.”

Brittany blinked. “Santana…”

Santana held up her hand. “It’s forgotten, Britt. We’re rising above and beyond, right?”

She nodded slowly. “Small steps to make a difference.”

The smile that crossed Santana’s face was blinding and Brittany felt her legs getting a little weaker.

You’re screwed.

She sighed to herself. So, so screwed.

“San.”

They both turned to see Rachel standing at the beginning of the book racks, her arms folded across her chest as she surveyed them.

She didn’t like this feeling. This…distrusting feeling. She did trust Santana. Completely. But Brittany… Her best friend didn’t have the best track record when it came to honesty.

Rachel hadn’t dwelled too much on what she’d seen in Glee on Monday. She’d simply brushed it off as her mind playing tricks on her. New relationship jitters. She’d never been in a relationship before so she didn’t know what to make of all these different feelings. She wasn’t about to fly off the handle for something silly and fleeting.

Instead, she’d done what any sensible girlfriend would’ve done. Kept a closer eye on Brittany, who was looking exceptionally guilty as Santana smiled and leaned in for a kiss.

“Ready to study, baby?” she asked.

Rachel forced her suspicious gaze from Brittany, who was focusing intensely on her feet and met Santana’s warm brown eyes. They immediately eased any worries that she had. She was being paranoid. Nothing was happening. It was absurd, anyway. Of all the people in the entire school, Rachel should have realised that the probability of something happening between Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce was so unlikely. They tolerated each other, and that was only because of her.

She was being utterly silly.

Rachel linked her fingers through Santana’s and smiled back, leaning in for a sweet kiss. “Sure, let’s find a secret table. I’m a very hands on student.”

Santana chuckled and allowed herself to be pulled towards the back of the library.

* * *

“I’m excited,” Santana said with a grin as she buttoned her short jean shorts. Rachel’s wardrobe was…extensive.

“Me too, actually,” Quinn agreed, putting the final touches on her ostentatious make up.

“You girls look capital H. O. T,” Rachel commented, lightly squeezing Santana’s ass as she entered the locker room.

“Babe, you need to get ready. We’ve got ten minutes before we start.”

“Please, I’ll be ready in five.”

Santana raised an eyebrow and watched unabashedly as Rachel stripped and changed in two minutes, with her hair and makeup taking a further four.

“Wow,” Quinn stated, impressed. “Clearly you’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Getting dressed quickly?” Rachel chuckled. “Oh, yeah.”

Santana raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what Rachel was referring to. Rachel caught her look and spun towards her, wrapping her arms around her waist. “But that was the old me,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “New me is a one-woman girl.”

“Uh huh.”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that,” Rachel pouted.

Santana shrugged. She knew it was stupid that she was getting upset about something that was in the past. The logical part of her brain also told her that Rachel would never do anything to hurt her now.

“My dads are driving up to Columbus for some art show,” Rachel said quietly, her fingers tracing lightly over Santana’s collarbone. “I invited the Cheerios around tomorrow for a pool party cos it’s supposed to be hot. Wanna join?”

Santana sighed. “Me hanging with the Cheerios? I don’t think the winds of change have mustered up a gale quite ready for that.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and smiled. “You’re so dramatic. Just come over. I’ll wear my favourite bikini.”

Santana considered her options, but she really didn’t have to think about it. Hello, an opportunity to have hot sex with her smokin’ girlfriend? It was a no brainer.

“Let me know when you’re all wet and I’ll come over,” she husked in her ear.

“Oh, Christ,” Quinn muttered. “Any chance you two could refrain from your dirty talk in the presence of others.”

“Block your ears, Quinnie,” Santana teased, angling her neck as Rachel trailed soft kisses up and down the open skin.

“I shouldn’t have to!” Quinn suddenly snapped.

Santana frowned and gently pushed Rachel away. She walked over to the mirror where Quinn was staring at her own reflection.

“Quinn, that was a little rude,” Santana began.

“No, _you_ are being rude! Did it ever occur to you that maybe not everyone wants to see you two swapping saliva with each every second of the day? It’s nauseating.”

Santana’s eyes narrowed and she clenched her fists. She knew that Quinn wasn’t a latent homophobe, but she did take exception to being verbally attacked.

“Why, because we’re two girls?” she seethed. “I bet if either Rachel or I was sucking face with a regular frank and beans, you wouldn’t be throwing a prissy fit. So what the hell is this really about?”

“Jesus, Santana, why do you always assume that someone is out to get you? I don’t have a problem with you and Rachel. I never did. What I do have a problem with is that it seems that _you_ don’t care that it makes me uncomfortable to see you with your tongue down Rachel’s throat for half the day. And the other half you spend texting each other about having your tongues down each other’s throats. It just…” She took a breath. “It gets a bit much. Did you ever once think about what it’s like for those of us who are doomed to remain single for the foreseeable future?”

Santana swallowed. Shit, she was a terrible best friend. Terrible. Horrendous. Abhorrent.

She caught Rachel’s eye, who looked about as guilty as she felt. Bad best friend award.

“Quinn, I’m sorr-“

“Forget it,” Quinn cut in, walking past them. “We have a performance now.”

Santana sighed and stared at herself in the mirror. She needed to make this right. But they’d have to wait until their performance was over.

“San, what-“

“Let’s go,” Santana said abruptly, following Quinn’s hasty exit.

Brittany frowned at the trio on the stage. They seemed like they didn’t even want to be there. Normally Santana and Rachel were all over each other and even Santana and Quinn would always smile at each other. None of them were even making eye contact.

“All right, girls,” Ms. Sylvester called from her seat. “Show us what you’ve got.”

Santana stepped forward. “So, as misleading as our clothing may be, I regret to inform you that we are _not_ doing the Spice Girls.”

Mercedes and Tina, who were sitting behind Brittany, let out a dramatic boo of disappointment.

Santana grinned. “We are, however, going to pay homage to another epically successful all girl band from a generation that we should definitely draw from more often. I mean, come on.” She indicated to her outfit. “Does this not look sexy as fu-“

“Thank you, Santana,” Ms. S cut in quickly, sensing that Santana clearly needing refocus.

“Chill, Ms. S,” Santana chuckled. “I was gonna say fun.” She winked, letting everyone know that was definitely _not_ what she was going to say. “Guys and girls, may I present the McKinley High revival of The Bangles!”

Brittany smiled and shook her head. She watched as Santana grabbed Quinn’s hand and then Rachel’s, holding both of them tightly as they waited for the music to start.

She watched Quinn visibly relax and Rachel was the same – staring at Santana like she was the most amazing thing in the world.

_Well..._

Brittany closed her eyes. As the band started playing, she opened them again and couldn’t help but smile as the three girls started doing the most horrendously bad choreography. Quinn stepped forward and started singing.

_“All the old paintings on the tombs, they do the sand dance don't you know. If they move too quick (oh whey oh), they're falling down like a domino.”_

Suddenly the bad choreography stopped and they all stood in a line, starting a sequence of impressive moves as Quinn sang the first chorus.

_“Foreign types with the hookah pipes say whey oh, whey oh, whey oh, whey oh. Walk like an Egyptian.”_

Everyone started chuckling as the girls started walking like Egyptians. Rachel mixed it up and made the whole move modern by adding a little ghetto R ‘n B pop ‘n lock to each step. Brittany was actually quite impressed. The girls were having fun and that was all that dancing was about, really.

Rachel stepped forward and continued the impressive routine as she sang.

_“The blonde waitresses take their trays. They spin around and they cross the floor. They've got the moves (oh whey oh). You drop your drink then they bring you more.”_

After the chorus came the brief rock out instrumental and the trio started doing the Egyptian walk, but they made it look kinda cool – something that The Bangles had failed at.

Santana spun to the front and led her partners in a routine with sharp moves and quick turns as she belted out the final verse and chorus.

_"Slide feet up the street bend your back, shift your arm then you call a cop. Life's hard you know (oh whey oh). So strike a pose on a Cadillac.”_

Everyone erupted into applause as the music faded out and the trio bowed. Brittany joined in. She was definitely impressed. She’d always known that Rachel could keep a good beat – she was on the Cheerios after all. Santana, for all her clumsiness, was also really good. Brittany suspected that her gymnastics had helped with that. And she knew that Quinn did ridiculous amounts of training. They went to the same studio, but Brittany’s classes were much later and very different to what Quinn did.

Wait. Why did she care? This stupid Glee Club thing was supposed to be a way to get Puck back. And now he was gone. So why was she even there?

Rachel told you why. And you agreed with her.

Brittany sighed and stood up. Her time had come. Ms. S had suggested that she go last to round up Dance-ability as she was the best dancer. She’d prepared two numbers, one featuring her with some back up dancers and the second, a duet with Finn.

She kept the long coat around her, not wanting her outfit to be revealed until the song started. Brittany was a little nervous about singing and dancing – cheering and dancing had trained her breathing so that she didn’t sound ridiculous. When she and Rachel had auditioned, the dancing had been so minimal. This time, though… Well, the dancing was way more intense.

Brittany pulled out her phone and saw that her Cheerios were waiting in the wings for her. They had begrudgingly agreed to be her back up, and after Coach Em had bitten their heads off for giving their Head Cheerio issues, they’d set about rehearsing.

Brittany took centre stage and unbuttoned her jacket as the first beats to the song started. At the first line, she jerked the protective clothing off and tossed it to the side, immediately jumping into her routine.

_“Who run the world? Girls! Some of them men think they freak this like we do but no they don't. Make your cheque come at they neck. Disrespect us no they won't.”_

She could feel the sweat pouring down her back as the energetic routine started putting a strain on her body. She didn’t feel it though. She was completely lost in the song, the singing and the dancing.

Her Cheerios were doing a really good job, making her look good (like it was difficult) and keeping up with her maddening pace. Brittany wanted to showcase how crazy dancing could be, but her following performance with Finn was a lot more demure. She felt that it was important to illustrate that dancing didn’t have to be all fast-paced and crazy moves. It could be simple as well.

_“My persuasion can build a nation. Endless power, with our love we can devour. You'll do anything for me. Who run the world? Girls!”_

The girls in the audience were cheering back to her and she smiled, continuing her routine as they sang the rest.

Brittany completed her routine, breathing hard and smiling at the thunderous applause from the crowd. It almost felt sweeter than the applause she received when she was cheering at competitions.

It felt more…real.

* * *

Santana knew that she needed to control her breathing and fast. She knew that Brittany could dance, but _fuck_. She’d completely blindsided Santana with that performance. It screamed sex and power and Santana would be a fool to deny that she’d found it incredibly alluring. As everyone clapped and cheered, she closed her eyes and took three deep breaths discreetly to try and get her heartbeat back to normal.

She couldn’t let Brittany affect her in _any_ way, but especially making her wonder what would have happened in the sauna if they hadn’t been interrupted. It was so, so wrong. Rachel was amazing and sweet and affectionate and treated her well. She’d made her decision.

_Doesn’t mean that you’re not attracted to Brittany._

“I can’t be,” she mumbled to herself.

“What, baby?” Rachel asked, leaning close to her.

_Crap._

“Just clearing my throat, Rach.”

Rachel smiled at her and they sat back down, their fingers automatically entwining.

“Thanks, guys,” Brittany said, a little breathlessly. “Finn’s gonna help me with the next performance, but I just need a minute to change.”

“Why? You look hot!” Dave yelled and Lauren whooped in agreement.

Brittany grinned – the same cocky grin that Santana was used to seeing on her face.

“This is not news, Karofsky. Unfortunately for your spank bank, I’ve got something a little more…calm for the next dance.”

“You’re no fun, Pierce,” Dave muttered, but everyone heard him.

“Well, that was absolutely brilliant, I think,’ Ms. S jumped in, clapping her hands together. Brittany jogged off the stage and Santana just followed the long black leather boots that ended mid-thigh.

She swallowed again.

“All in all, I think that this week has been a resounding success,” Ms. S went on. “I feel that we are definitely a little more prepared for Sectionals in two weeks.”

“Two weeks,” Santana breathed.

“I know,’ Rachel replied. “It’s so close! I’d love to hear you have a solo, San. I think you’d kill it.”

Santana had to smile. “I wonder what the judges would think if you sang _Addicted_.”

Rachel flushed. “I don’t think I care what they think,” she murmured, leaning closer. “Just you.”

Their lips met and Santana just allowed a gentle massage against her own before breaking it lightly.

“Let’s try and keep the PDA to a minimum,” she whispered. “I don’t want to make things worse for Quinn.”

Rachel looked like she wanted to rebut, but evidently decided that it was pointless and simply nodded. She leaned in for one more kiss before Bruno Mars’ _Just The Way You Are_ started playing.

Finn came onto the stage and started moving to the soft melody of the song. Brittany had been right – it was a definite change to the energetic dancing they’d just witnessed. As the chorus hit, Finn completed a double turn just in time to catch a flying Brittany as she ran from the wings.

Santana breathed in sharply and the small movement out of the corner of her eye told her that Rachel had noticed.

_Shit, shit!_

It was only because Brittany looked so fucking beautiful. She was still human, right? Brittany’s hair was long and loose and she was wearing a shimmering blue dress with simple spaghetti straps. The bodice was fitted, but flared out just under the bust, the material cut in different layers all the way to the ground.

 _Yeah, checking your girlfriend’s best friend out is_ such _a good idea._

If Rachel asked her something about Brittany, would she be able to lie to her face? Was it worth telling her the truth? Would it make a difference if she didn’t know?

Santana’s eyes found Brittany again as she moved gracefully with Finn. They looked like their bodies were meant to move together. It seemed so effortless.

“Babe, I gotta pee,” Rachel whispered.

“Now?”

Rachel nodded and climbed over Santana’s legs, giving her a kiss before she jogged up the stairs. Santana looked at the stage and found herself staring into Brittany’s eyes. What was she doing? What were either of them doing? Brittany had been acting so weird all week, especially around her. Santana really wanted to know what was going on in her head. Was it because of the kiss? Was it really Finn? Was it Rachel?

Her eyes were almost hypnotic and Santana found herself unable to look away.

_“When I see your face, there's not a thing that I would change cause you're amazing just the way you are. And when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while cause girl, you're amazing just the way you are.”_

Santana swore she saw Brittany’s mouth moving slightly with the words and her brow furrowed in confusion even further. What the hell was going on?

“San, what’s going on?” Quinn whispered, her confused look matching Santana’s. She moved into the now vacant chair next to Santana.

“Quinnie, I wish I knew,” she whispered, back, her eyes still locked with Brittany’s as she moved gracefully across the stage.

“Be careful, San. You’re not doing a very good job of hiding the fact that there’s something between you.”

That caused Santana to break contact and finally look at Quinn. “There’s nothing between us,” she hissed. “It was a mistake and it’s over. It’s in the past.”

“Does she know that?”

Santana looked at the stage again and simply watched as Brittany finished out the performance, this time clearly mouthing the last two lines.

_“Cause girl, you're amazing just the way you are.”_

“A lot of dancers sing when they’re dancing,” Santana argued in a low voice. “It helps them keep their steps in time to the beat.”

“Santana-“

“No.” She stood up abruptly. “There is nothing between me and Brittany. I’m with Rachel and she’s everything that I want and need. The end. Are we clear?”

Quinn raised an eyebrow but nodded.

“Good. I gotta go. Tell Ms. S that I’ll see her on Monday.”

“San,” Quinn tried again, but she simply turned and walked away.

She hit the stairs and felt a pair of eyes on her. With a quick glance at the stage, she met Brittany’s gaze and subtly shook her head.

Whatever Brittany was thinking, whatever _she_ was thinking, it had to stop. _Now._

“Hey, where are you going?”

Rachel grabbed Santana’s hand as she walked past, her eyes concerned.

“Uh, nothing, babe. I’m just not feeling great so I’m kicking it early.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Santana shook her head. “This is gonna sound like bullshit, but I kinda just want to be in my own headspace for a bit? Please?”

“Okay,” Rachel replied with a smile. “I understand that, San. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Santana nodded and Rachel leaned in for a kiss, one that she allowed to get a little heated before she pulled away.

“I’ll see ya,” Santana whispered, and then she turned and walked out the doors.

* * *

Brittany finished up the song and saw Santana get up and walk away. She knew that she’d been stupid to mouth the words. She knew that she’d been stupid to stare at her during the whole fucking song. But she couldn’t help herself. It was like she was a magnet and Santana was the other magnet. She didn’t want to encourage whatever stupid fantasy was playing out in her mind. In the real world, she was straight. She was a straight girl who was Head Cheerio. This… _thing_ with Santana was just some irritating infatuation. One that she needed to get rid of, like an itch that needed to be scratched. That kiss that they had shared had created the itch and all the frustration that Brittany had been dealing with over the last two weeks had simply aggravated that itch. Now she needed someone to scratch it. She needed Santana to scratch the itch so that she could get her out of her system.

She smiled at Finn, who was resting his hand on her lower back as Miss S was talking to them. She spotted Santana being stopped by Rachel, saw them kiss and felt her heart hurt.

Not your heart. Like your adrenaline or something. Not your heart.

Santana exited the auditorium and Rachel walked back down to sit next to Quinn. Brittany glanced back at the door that Santana had disappeared through, biting her lip.

“I gotta go,” she mumbled, making a snap decision.

“You okay?” Finn asked.

“Yeah, just need to shower. I hate feeling so sweaty.”

Lie. You love it. And you plan to get more sweaty.

The thought of that possibility made her swallow as her body temperature spiked and her heartbeat increased.

“Miss Sylvester, I really gotta go,” Brittany said with an apologetic smile.

“Um, okay, Brittany,” Miss S replied, nodding. “You did a wonderful job today.”

“Thanks.”

She walked quickly into the wings and grabbed her bag, stuffing the clothes she’d quickly changed out of. Where would Santana have gone? Home? To the locker room? She slung her bag over her shoulder and jogged out the back door of the auditorium, keeping her eyes peeled for the black hair she’d come to recognise anywhere. She headed for the parking lot and saw that Santana’s car was gone.

 _Shit_.

She ran to her own car and quickly exited the parking lot. She had a vague idea of where Santana lived. She remembered attending one of her brother’s parties the year before. Would she even go there though?

As she pulled up to a red light, she glanced at her phone, wrestling with the idea of texting her.

The light went green and Brittany turned into the road that she thought Santana lived on. She recognised Santana’s car as it pulled into the driveway.

She just got home.

Brittany pulled up to a quick stop at the bottom of the driveway and jumped out of her car, running up to Santana’s car.

She had no idea what she was even doing.

Santana got out of her car and jumped in fright when she saw a very determined Brittany walking up to her.

“Brittany, what-“

Brittany simply grabbed her hand, pushed the car door closed and pulled her to a small space that she’d seen between the boundary wall and garage. It was hidden from the view of the street and the houses on either side.

“Brittany, _what_ the hell are you doing?” Santana hissed, twisting to try and release her arm.

“Scratching an itch,” Brittany mumbled, glancing back to make sure they were hidden from view.

“What?” Santana asked in confusion.

Brittany stopped and turned to face Santana, whose eyes suddenly went wide as she recognised that familiar look.

“No, no, no, Brittany, what the hell are you-“

Brittany simply stepped forward, forcing Santana to step back, flat against the garage wall. She had nowhere to go. Brittany took another step forward, closing the space between them.

“B-Britt-“

“No talking,” she whispered, putting a finger on Santana’s lips.

“You can’t do this,” Santana said anyway, her eyes determined.

“I’m not doing anything, though.” She let her finger trace over Santana’s gorgeous, plump lips.

“But you want to.”

“I do.”

It was pointless lying at this stage.

“Look, last time was a mistake. I’m with-“

“Do you really think that it was?” Brittany cut in curiously.

“You…you said it was,” Santana whispered uncertainly.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Santana averted her gaze. “Yes,” she said finally.

“Yes?” She hadn’t expected that to hurt as much as it did.

“It was a mistake. Brittany, I’m with Rachel. And she’s your best friend!”

“I know!” Brittany hissed in reply. “Do you think I _want_ to feel like this? Do you think that I’m happy that all I can think about is that kiss and how much I want to do it again? Jesus, I don’t even like girls, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Santana was stunned into silence. Brittany took the advantage and released her grip on Santana’s arm to bring both her hands up to her face. Her fingers traced every contour and angle and she felt Santana’s heartbeat pick up its pace.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” she murmured, her eyes flickering between Santana’s dark orbs and her luscious lips. “Do you want me to kiss you, Santana?”

Her own heartbeat increased at her sudden bravado. Santana seemed to give her some strange kind of courage. Like she could be herself and she wouldn’t be judged. Even though Santana did judge her, it almost didn’t matter.

“I-I-I…no.”

Brittany raised her eyebrows. “No?”

Santana shook her head.

“Your body is telling me something else.”

“Brittany, please. We can’t-“

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong! I’m not a cheater! I care about Rachel and I don’t want to hurt her.”

“I never said that I was going to say anything to her,” Brittany replied, her fingers still running over Santana’s face.

“I know you won’t. Your precious reputation is too important. But did it ever occur to you that I don’t like lying to her? I hate that I’m already keeping this huge secret from her.”

“Obviously not enough to stop you from sleeping with her.”

What the hell? Way to be in control, moron.

Santana’s eyes narrowed. “What does it matter to you whether or not I have sex with _my_ girlfriend? It’s not like you’re a saint.”

“No,” Brittany replied.

There were moments of awkward silence until Santana lifted her hands to Brittany’s and took them off her face.

“I get that you’re confused, okay?” she said gently. “And I’m happy to be there for you as a friend. But Brittany, I can only ever be your friend.”

“Can you, Santana?” Brittany asked, narrowing her eyes. “You say that I’m confused, but you’re having the exact same reaction as me here. I know that you want to kiss me.”

Santana sighed. “It doesn’t matter if I want to kiss you. The fact is, I can’t.”

“So you do want to?” Brittany asked, stepping even closer so that her front was pressed up against Santana’s.

“Brittany,” she warned.

“Look, here’s how I see it,” Brittany said quickly, feeling that her resolve was starting to fade. “I obviously have some kind of thing about you that I can’t seem to get rid of. You have a thing about me that you’re ignoring for some greater good. I say-“

“Brittany, no,” Santana started.

“Shut up,” Brittany murmured, pressing their bodies even closer together. She closed her eyes as she briefly remembered what it felt like to run her hands over Santana’s body so freely.

“This can’t happen,” Santana whispered, her breath fluttering across Brittany’s face.

“Maybe,” Brittany replied, meeting her eyes. “But it’s going to anyway.”

* * *

Santana’s breath caught in her throat. It was happening again and she was losing control of her willpower. Her heart was hammering and she met Brittany’s eyes, which had become sufficiently darker. Their hands moved around in each other’s until their fingers became intertwined and Brittany lifted them above Santana’s head and rested them against the garage wall.

_Oh, God. She can't! I can't! Fuck. This needs to stop right fucking now!_

Santana opened her mouth to speak, but instead found a warm pair of lips on hers. Brittany’s tongue immediately darted into her open mouth and massaged her own.

_No, no, no! This is wrong! Fuck it!_

Santana moved her face so that their lips broke, but Brittany had an incredibly strong hold on her hands and she couldn’t move them.

“No, Brittany, we can’t,” she breathed, already hopelessly turned on by one kiss.

“Can’t what?” Brittany whispered, her breath ghosting over the open skin on Santana’s neck.

Santana breathed in sharply as Brittany started kissing her neck, almost immediately finding that spot that made her knees go weak.

_How the fuck? It took Rachel two weeks to find that spot!_

“You…have…to stop,” Santana said between gasps, wishing that it didn’t feel so fucking good.

“So make me stop,” Brittany challenged, still pressing kisses into her neck. “I’ll let go of your hands and you can either push me away or kiss me back.”

Santana squeezed her eyes and her hands in frustration.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whimpered.

“Because you want to kiss me and I need to kiss you.”

“Need?” Santana frowned.

In response, Brittany untangled their fingers and her hands dropped to Santana’s waist, her thumbs toying with the bottom of her shirt, skirting lightly over the bare skin underneath.

Crap, crap, crap.

_What the fuck am I gonna do?_

At that moment, Brittany lifted her head from Santana’s neck and their eyes locked. Santana was rendered frozen. Underneath that lustful gaze, she was absolute jelly.

So when Brittany joined their lips again, her mouth immediately opened to her tongue and one hand went to Brittany’s waist whilst the other embedded itself in her hair, anchoring them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ace_hlnwst on socials
> 
> Come and join the Brittana Discord server! We talk about Brittana and other way less important things. But mostly Brittana :D https://discord.gg/WUpexmr


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sheeeeeeenanigans. NSFW.

Quinn found herself smiling a lot that afternoon. Who knew that Rachel Berry was actually a decent person? And she was funny. She had no qualms about saying exactly what was on her mind. Quinn found it refreshing. She knew that she wasn't a _total_ bitch with San blabbering on about her every second of the day. But after spending an afternoon in her company, Quinn was pleasantly surprised at how down to earth Rachel was. And how sympathetic she was.

"My treat," Rachel said, pulling out her purse. They had decided to stop at _The Lima Bean_ after wrapping up Dance-ability week in Glee. "What's your poison?"

"Oh, um, thanks, Rachel. I'll just have an iced coffee. Not in the mood for anything too caffeinated."

"Oooh, that actually sounds good," Rachel mused, smiling. She turned to barista. "Two iced coffees and be generous with the sprinkles."

Quinn caught a wink and a smirk from the barista aimed at Rachel and raised an eyebrow. As Rachel handed over the money, she caught Quinn's disapproving look.

"Oh, come on, Quinn. It's not like I was going to run into the back and have a quickie with her," Rachel said in a teasing tone.

"You already did that," the barista chimed, taking two cups over to the coffee dispenser.

"Oh, really?" Quinn asked incredulously.

"What?" Rachel spluttered. "If I did, it wasn't when I was with Santana. Quinn, I swear it. I would never cheat on her." She turned to the barista. "When did this so-called romp occur?"

"Romp?" she questioned with a smirk. "If I recall, Rachel Berry, it was three romps and it was just before finals last year."

"See?" Rachel said triumphantly. "I am absolved."

"Absolved?" Quinn chuckled. "I think you have a long way to go before you're absolved of _all_ your sins."

Rachel smiled and shrugged. "So I've been a bad girl. Past tense. I get everything I need from your best friend."

"Ugh." Quinn pulled a face. "I do _not_ need any kind of details about what you and Santana get up to."

Rachel chuckled and grabbed their drinks.

"Yours is the one with my number on it," the barista purred.

"Sorry, honey. My girlfriend is number one on my priority list. I don't need any other numbers."

Quinn smiled proudly.

"What does she have that I don't?" the barista asked with a pout.

Rachel sipped her drink as she thought. "Everything."

She spun away, leaving the barista with a look of disbelief on her face. Quinn chuckled and followed Rachel to a corner table.

"It must be interesting to be you," she mused as she sat down.

Rachel cocked her head and looked up thoughtfully. "I suppose it might be. Well, for someone..." Her eyes went a little wide and she pulled her lips together tightly to prevent herself from saying anything further.

Quinn eyed her. "Go on, you can say it. For someone like me." she smiled. "I'm not a precious gem that will lose all its value with one harsh word, Rachel."

"Oh, no, I know that. God, out of all the people I know, you're probably the strongest. With everything that's happened over the last few weeks..." she trailed off and shook her head in amazement. "How are you so calm?"

Quinn fiddled with the rim of her iced coffee. "Can I be honest, Rachel?"

"Of course."

Quinn sighed. "It's a struggle to get out of bed sometimes. I'm not sure how much Santana has actually told you about...what happened, but-"

"I know the very basics," Rachel cut in quickly. "She hasn't spilled anything deep. Whatever you guys talk about is between you."

Quinn smiled. "That's Santana for you. She'll take a secret to the grave if you ask her." A small frown crossed her face as she remembered a _particular_ secret that Santana was harbouring.

"What is it?"

"Oh, no, nothing important," Quinn brushed off. It definitely wasn't her secret to tell, no matter how much she disagreed with Santana's approach to the whole situation. "Um, anyway, as I was saying, it may come across that I'm all strong and calm and together, but that's purely because I've had years of practice."

"That doesn't sound like a fun childhood," Rachel mumbled, chewing on her straw. "Sorry if that's blunt."

Quinn smiled. "It's refreshing, actually. Santana calls it like it is, but she still doesn't want to hurt me so she sugar-coats it." She shrugged. "I mean, I love her for it because at least she takes an interest."

"Oh." Rachel paused, and looked uncertain about what she wanted to say.

"Rachel, I'm not a dragon. I'm not going to bite your head off for asking me a question. If I don't want to answer it, the I won't."

"Fair enough," Rachel said with a relieved smile. "Um, I remember seeing your mom at the hospital and the way Santana was with her...I don't know, it just seemed like you guys are close."

"Who? Santana and my mother? Me and Santana? Me and my mother?"

"Well, obviously I know you and Santana are close. I kinda wish like I had that best friend vibe with Brittany, but I doubt that will happen. We have our own style that works for us."

"Understatement," Quinn giggled.

Rachel smiled. "I guess I meant are you and your mother close? Because the way San greeted her, it seemed like you guys were."

"Well, Santana seems to have a knack for getting any parents to like her. I guess it's the Lopez charm."

"Oh, I've had many experiences with the Lopez charm," Rachel laughed.

Quinn laughed with her. "Yeah, so Santana and my mom, they're fine. _Me_ and my mom...well, she has a dream for me that she's determined to make a reality."

"Do you share this dream with her?"

Quinn sighed and truly contemplated the question since the last time she and Santana had spoken about it. "I'm not sure. I think in part, yes. But not the entire dream she has for me, no."

"May I ask what your dream is?"

"If I knew, I'd gladly tell you, Rachel."

"Well, that's okay. I mean, we're only sixteen. We still have almost three years of high school to help decide what it is that we want to do."

"You make it sound so simple," Quinn said quietly. "I wish it _were_ that simple. Unfortunately, my mother will make sure that I follow her dream." She shrugged. "There's not much I can do about that."

"Hold up. Where's the Quinn Fabray that I see dominating the choir room?" Rachel demanded. "I'm pretty sure she wouldn't stand for this roll over and die crap."

Rachel's eyes were twinkling and Quinn had to laugh. "Well, I guess when you put it like that, I do sound like an idiot, don't I?"

"No, no, that's not what I meant! God, I'm so insensitive. Quinn, I-"

She was cut off by Quinn laughing heartily. "I never, in a million years, would have expected us to be having this conversation, with you apologising to me for thinking that you're being insensitive!" she giggled.

Rachel smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, well I guess you can thank your best friend for turning me away from the dark side."

"Oh, God, she really has corrupted you," Quinn said, her face suddenly serious.

"Not entirely," Rachel confessed. She leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper, "I'm somewhat of a nerd myself." She cleared her throat dramatically and sat back. "But of course, you never heard this."

"Oh, no, of course not," Quinn replied, playing along. "In fact, the last three seconds never happened."

"I like you, Fabray," Rachel said, clinking their iced coffees together. "Now what are we gonna do about Momzilla taking over your life?"

* * *

It was so wrong. _So_ wrong. But she couldn't stop. She tried fighting it, but her body refused. Even her head refused. She wished that it didn't feel so good. She _hated_ that it felt so right.

Brittany's lips were expertly working against hers. It felt effortless. They just fit. Santana’s hand was firmly buried in Brittany’s hair as their tongues danced with each other. There was no space between their bodies as Brittany pressed her against the garage wall. Their hips had started uncontrollably moving against each other, but it felt amazing.

Santana had to tear her lips away from Brittany's as she gasped for air. Brittany was working her up so much that she couldn't even control her body enough to breathe through her nose. Brittany's lips left a hot trail from her jaw to her neck and latched onto that weak spot that made Santana's knees tremble. Brittany felt the result and took the opportunity to slip a thigh in between Santana's legs, immediately pressing against her. Santana let out a muffled moan against Brittany's shoulder and it simply seemed to spur her on. Brittany started rubbing herself against Santana's thigh, breathing heavily into her neck at the stimulation it was bringing.

_God, I can't have sex with Brittany! Even if it is dry humping!_

"W-w-wait, wait," Santana said, squeezing her neck to get her attention. "Brittany, stop!"

"Please," came a begging voice. "Please just make it go away."

_What the..._

Santana used both her hands to bring Brittany's face to hers. "What's going on?" she asked, still breathing quite heavily.

"Please, Santana, _please_."

Brittany's eyes were desperate as they searched hers, but it just made Santana more confused. What was this to her? Was what this to both of them? What the hell was _this_ anyway? What were they doing?

Brittany leaned in to capture her lips again and there was an urgency that overwhelmed the passion. Santana let herself get lost in it again until she felt Brittany's hand grab hers and push it down past her stomach to where a huge amount of heat was emanating. Santana's breath caught in her throat.

_This is way beyond anything we’ve done. And we’ve already stepped over the line._

"Brittany," Santana breathed, breaking away slightly, searching her eyes again.

"Please, just do this for me?" Brittany begged. "I need this and it'll be over. Please, Santana."

Santana opened her mouth and then closed it when she couldn't find any words. She didn't know what she could possibly say. She'd never seen such a desperate, needy look in anyone's eyes before. She wasn't sure if she had it in her to deny Brittany. Could she? Did she even want to?

Brittany closed the minuscule distance between them again and this time the kiss was sweet and reminiscent of a lover's kiss. The familiarity and natural feeling scared the shit out of Santana. She shouldn't be feeling that with Brittany. She shouldn't even be feeling it _at all_!

Brittany continued her soft, sweet kisses and the feelings worked their way into Santana's head. As soon as Brittany felt her succumb again, she pressed Santana’s hand against her core. The immediate pressure caused her to whimper in pleasure and the sound rocketed through Santana's body.

She knew it was wrong. She _knew_ it was. Why the hell couldn't she stop?

* * *

"How long have you and Brittany been friends?" Quinn asked, swirling the last of her iced coffee around in the cup.

"We met when we were eleven. So about five years?"

"Same and me and San."

"How did you guys meet?"

Quinn smiled. "Ah, now that is a highly boring story actually."

"Well then I can't wait to hear it," Rachel chuckled. "I'm ready to be absolutely riveted."

"Okay, so you know San did gymnastics, right?"

"Hmmm," Rachel said with a wicked smile and wiggled her eyebrows.

"Ew, okay, I do _not_ need to know what you're thinking right now, even though I have a feeling that I know exactly what…" Quinn trailed off, shuddering dramatically.

"Ah, come on, Quinnie, surely you're not _completely_ innocent in that pristine white dress of yours," Rachel teased. "What's the craziest thing you've ever done?" Her eyes flashed mischievously.

"Oh, you mean other than lose my virginity to a known playboy without using a condom and falling pregnant as a result?" Quinn replied with a smirk.

Rachel's eyes went wide. "Shit, I'm-"

"Rachel, relax. I was kidding. Seriously, I'm past the whole Puck/pregnancy/miscarriage debacle. I'm glad it's behind me. I learnt a lot about myself, definitely, so I'm putting in under the life experiences column."

"Wow," Rachel breathed. "That's like, the most mature thing I've heard anyone say. If Britt had to fall pregnant, shit would hit the fan. Like major. She'd demand the world stop while she sorts her shit out." She rolled her eyes. "You should write a book or something."

Quinn chuckled. "Yeah, I'll call it... _Confessions of a pregnant teenager who miscarried when she got hit by a bike._ "

Rachel threw back her head and laughed. "Hell, even a stand-up comedian. Quinn, I'm pretty sure you could do whatever you wanted without batting an eyelid."

Quinn felt herself smiling bashfully. "Um, so how Santana and I met. I was at a dance recital and she had just finished up a gym competition. We both ran into the bathroom because we'd both just started our period."

"No," Rachel said, her mouth dropping open.

Quinn nodded, grinning at the memory. "She was cursing in Spanish, going totally apeshit and I just stared at her because she was wearing this bright pink leotard and she just looked like she was crazy."

"Well, not much has changed there," Rachel mumbled, earning a slap on the arm from Quinn. "What?"

"That's my best friend you're talking about," Quinn said sternly. "So, anyway. Once she realised that she wasn't alone, she gave me that arched eyebrow look and said, 'Do I look like I have a tampon, Blondie'?"

"What?" Rachel squealed, leaning back in her chair as she laughed.

Quinn shrugged. "I said to her, 'You can use the one you have shoved up your ass'. She grinned at me and offered to buy me a Coke. The rest, as they say, is history."

"That is priceless," Rachel gasped, wiping tears away from her eyes.

Quinn's eyes widened. "Rachel, you can't tell her that I told you that! She'll castrate me! Like seriously, she'll castrate me."

Rachel tried to control her giggles unsuccessfully so she just nodded.

Quinn huffed. "Okay, Miss Cheerio. Tit for tat. Tell me an embarrassing story about you."

Rachel grinned. "You may need to be more specific than that. Imagine everything you've heard about me."

Quinn did and grimaced at the unsavoury stories she'd caught snippets of in the locker room.

"Now imagine everything you _haven't_ heard."

"Oh, crap."

* * *

She definitely hadn't expected it to feel _so_ good. In her dreams it had been awesome, amazing, mind-blowing. In reality, feeling Santana's fingers inside her was just...

She had no words.

Brittany was kissing Santana feverishly as her edge came closer and closer. Santana seemed to also be struggling to hold on. Part of her really wanted to know what it felt like to be inside _her_ , but that would be going _way_ overboard. She needed this. She just...she needed to feel this. She needed Santana out of her system.

_Yeah, getting her to fuck you with her fingers seems like fine fucking dandy idea._

Brittany groaned and Santana quickly swallowed it, speeding up the penetration of her two digits. The change in pace made Brittany's legs buckle a little and they stumbled, Santana pushing Brittany against the opposite wall, her fingers still moving inside of her.

Her one leg lifted and hooked itself around Santana's waist, giving Santana more room to manoeuvre and allowing her to go even deeper. Brittany wrapped one arm just above her leg, anchoring Santana to her and her other arm went around her neck. She buried her face in Santana's shoulder, muffling her sounds of pleasure.

* * *

She _never_ expected it to feel this good.

God, how had she ended up with her fingers deep inside Brittany frigging Pierce? And why did it have to feel so _good_? Sure, once upon a time Santana had dreamed of doing just that, but it was wrong. It was _wrong_.

_So stop._

She couldn't. And she hated herself for it.

Brittany's breathing was becoming more laboured as she held Santana tightly to her. Her fingers were slipping in and out so easily.

_God, how is she this wet?_

Using her thumb, she pressed Brittany's clit lightly, repeating the movement with a little more pressure until Brittany was quivering in her arms. Her breathing told Santana that she was very close, so she sped up again, massaging her clit until she could feel Brittany's walls grasping at her fingers desperately.

"Oh, God!" Brittany squeaked, her nails digging into Santana's neck as her orgasm overtook her.

 _Wow_.

Santana was pretty sure _she_ wasn't supposed to get that worked up. Her self-hatred just increased as she brought Brittany down slowly.

After about five minutes, her breathing had returned to normal, so Santana pulled her fingers out, the layers of blue material brushing her wet digits as her hand reappeared from underneath Brittany's dress.

Brittany dropped her leg to the ground and met Santana's eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Santana wanted to be mad. What the hell was this? Had Brittany just used her? Ugh! She was _such_ an idiot! How did she not think of that before?

So she set her jaw and just nodded, turning away and breaking out of Brittany’s embrace.

"Wait."

She didn’t know why she did. She felt Brittany take her hand and pull her back to her. She tried to remain stoic. She tried to remain unattached.

But then Brittany kissed her. A kiss like before. An intimate kiss. A kiss that two lovers were supposed to share.

A kiss that she should _not_ be sharing with Brittany.

Santana abruptly broke away, internally cursing herself for letting Brittany kiss her like that. As if what she'd done wasn't bad enough.

"Santana," Brittany tried.

Santana just shook her head and pulled away, walking back to her car and grabbing her bag out of it. She slammed the door closed, her fury at her idiotic judgement taking centre stage.

 _You are a_ fucking _idiot, Santana Lopez. What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you even feel guilty? You just cheated on your girlfriend –_ again! - _with her_ best friend _. There are special places in hell reserved for people like you._

She opened the front door and closed it quietly, ignoring the greeting from her mother and brothers as she took the stairs two at a time, running into her room and closing the door. She dropped her bag and leaned against the thick oak.

Her shoulders started shaking as the tears rolled down her face. She lost all strength to hold herself up and she slumped against the door, slowly dropping to the floor, sobbing.

* * *

"We should do this more often," Quinn decided. "I've never gotten to know any of Santana's girlfriends."

Rachel unlocked the doors to her Thunderbird. "Um, how many girlfriends might that be?"

Quinn arched an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

Rachel shrugged. "We figured that going through our relationship history would be pointless seeing as how I've never really had one and if I had to list all of my hook ups, we'd be here till New Years. And those are just the ones I remember."

"Jesus, Rachel," Quinn said with a laugh of disbelief. "How in the hell did you manage to snag Santana?"

"No, no, Quinn," Rachel corrected, opening her door. "The question is, how did Santana manage to snag _me_?"

"Ha!" Quinn scoffed. "Perhaps we should ask Santana's opinion?"

"No!" Rachel squeaked quickly, jumping in her car and waiting for Quinn to follow.

She laughed heartily. "You are so whipped."

Rachel scoffed as she started her car. "No, I'm not."

"Uh huh. Santana is going to love me forever when I give her this info."

"No, don't!" Rachel begged. "Please! God, her teasing is bad enough at the best of times. Can you imagine what she would do if she found out that I actually am I little teeny tiny whipped?"

"Oh, just a little, huh?"

Rachel sighed. "Fine, more than a little. But come on, Quinn. Have you _seen_ her? She's such so hot and sexy and that _mouth_ -"

"I'm gonna stop you right there before I upchuck all over these lovely leather seats of yours."

Rachel promptly shut her trap and turned on her radio for the rest of the trip. She pulled up outside Quinn's house.

"Thanks for the coffee, Rach. I have to admit that I had fun."

"Me too. We should do this more often."

Quinn smiled warmly and got out the car. She waved as Rachel drove away.

_Well that turned into an interesting afternoon._

* * *

Rachel sang as she made her way to Santana's house. She had a game that night and it would be the first time that Santana would be there to see her cheer. She smiled at the thought of what they'd be doing _after_ the game, especially with her dads leaving her all alone.

She pulled up behind Santana's car and skipped – yes, _skipped_ – up to the door, knocking loudly three times.

Carmen opened the door and smiled at Rachel.

"Hi, Carmen," she said brightly. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Rachel."

She stepped onto the porch, but Carmen didn't move. She frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"Rachel, I don't think now is a good time for Santana to be receiving visitors."

_What?_

"Is she sick? She said she wasn't feeling well and-"

"She just...she doesn't want to see anyone right now, okay? She asked me to tell you that she really wished she could see you in the game tonight, but maybe if she's feeling better, she'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh." To say she was disappointed would be an understatement. She stepped back onto the path. "Well I guess if she's not feeling well..."

"Thank you for understanding, Rachel. I'm sure she'll be fine tomorrow. You still need to get used to her mood swings." She rolled her eyes dramatically and it made Rachel smile.

Okay, so it was something relatively normal for Santana. She just hadn't experienced it yet.

"Thanks, Carmen. I'll text her, but if you'll just tell her that I stopped by?" Rachel requested. "And that I'll miss her at the game tonight?"

Carmen nodded warmly. "Absolutely. Enjoy your evening, Rachel."

"And you."

Rachel walked back down the path to her car and, per chance, glanced back at Santana's window. The curtains were drawn and there was no sign of movement.

"I guess she really must be sick," she murmured, her brow creasing in worry. She pulled out her phone and typed a message.

_Hey baby. Your mom just told me that you're not feeling well. I wish I could take care of you. Let me know if I can do anything to make you feel better, okay? I miss you. I'll be cheering for you tonight. Rach xxx_

Yeah, okay. So what if she was whipped. Only Quinn needed to know that.

* * *

" _Mija_?"

Santana didn't answer her mother as she opened her bedroom door.

" _Mija_ , Rachel was just here. She seemed really concerned."

Nothing.

She could hear her mother sigh and she knew it wasn't from exasperation, simply concern. And who wouldn't be – normally Santana ran through the house with verbal diarrhoea. The fact that she hadn't said anything in the hour that she'd been home was definitely cause for concern.

"Santana, I'm here if you need anything, okay, _mi amor_?"

She just sniffed and burrowed deeper underneath her covers. No one could help her. She was the absolute worst person in the world. And to top it off, Rachel had probably sent her an amazingly sweet message that she didn't deserve. She didn't deserve Rachel. She didn't deserve happiness. She deserved to rot in hell.

" _Te amo_ ," Carmen whispered. Santana felt her mother's lips against her barely visible head. " _Qué demonios ha pasado?_ " she heard before her mother closing the door quietly.

That just brought on another bout of tears. Her mother would be _so_ disappointed in her. Santana adored her mother and that fact alone made her already hopeless situation seem even more hopeless.

* * *

Quinn had just got out the shower when her phone rang. She picked it up and frowned at the unusual caller.

"Hi, Carmen."

"Quinn, hi. Um, how are you?"

_Now this is weird._

"I'm great, Carmen. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks."

Quinn frowned. Carmen _never_ called her. Not even to find out where Santana was if she'd missed curfew or anything.

"Carmen, what's wrong?"

"Do you... Could you come over?"

"Um, sure. I can do that. Is everything okay?"

"I think Santana needs you. Something's wrong. She's been holed up in her room for the last two hours. She hasn't even said anything."

Quinn frowned. That was odd. Even when she was upset, Santana would just tell everyone to fuck off. "I'll be there as soon as I can, Carmen."

"Thank you, Quinn. I really hope that you can figure out what's going on."

"Me too. See you in a bit."

Within fifteen minutes, Quinn was knocking on the Lopez's big front door. Angelo opened it and grinned that charming Lopez grin. Quinn couldn't help but smile back and roll her eyes.

"Quinn Fabray! What brings your pretty face to our humble abode?"

"Aren't you supposed to go and fetch Liz from work soon?" Carmen chided him as she hit him over the head.

"Jeez, _Mami_!" Angelo whined.

Carmen shook her head and smiled gratefully at Quinn. "Thank you for coming," she said in a low voice, ushering her inside. "I haven't mentioned anything to the boys because you know they'll just demand to know who they need to kill."

Quinn giggled. "Some things will never change. And it's not a bad thing that they're so protective of her."

"No," Carmen agreed.

"So what happened?" Quinn asked, following Santana's mother up the stairs.

"I have no idea. She walked in, didn't say a word, ran upstairs and when I tried to open the door, I could hear her crying."

Crying? Santana? Something was seriously wrong. She _never_ cried.

"Okay, I got this, Carmen. Do you think you could ensure that we're not disturbed?"

Carmen nodded. "Thank you, Quinn. I really appreciate this."

"She's my best friend. It's part of the package."

She watched Carmen descend the stairs and put her ear against Santana's door, but everything was quiet. Maybe she was sleeping? But Rachel had a game that night. Santana had mentioned how much she was looking forward to seeing her girl strut her stuff.

She quietly tried turning the door handle and was relieved to find it unlocked. She slipped inside the dark room and closed the door behind her. She waited a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. There was a curled-up bundle on the bed, buried underneath Santana's comforter.

Quinn slowly made her way to the bed and dropped her bag silently next to it. Santana was right in the middle, completely hidden, but she wasn't asleep because her breathing was quiet, but choppy.

"Hey, San," Quinn whispered, kneeling next to her bed.

The bundle moved slightly and a pair of eyes blinked at her.

"What are you doing here?" Santana croaked.

"Um, your mom called. She was really worried. She thought maybe you might need me."

Santana suddenly burst into tears. Quinn wasted no time in discarding her shoes and climbing onto the bed, pulling her into her lap. Santana just curled into her and sobbed. Quinn stroked her back and hummed, letting Santana gather her own courage.

After about fifteen minutes, Santana settled down. Quinn was now really worried.

"San, what's going on?" she whispered.

Santana sniffed. "I...I fucked up, Quinn. I'm the worst person in the world."

Quinn’s heart constricted. After what she'd witnessed earlier in the auditorium and how Brittany had suddenly disappeared moments after Santana, she suspected the worst. She didn't say anything though, just waited.

"I don't know what to do," Santana eventually whispered.

"Is this about you and Brittany?" Quinn ventured, really hoping that she was wrong.

Santana's silence confirmed her suspicions and she sighed.

"Just tell me what happened, okay?"

"I got home and she was suddenly there. She pulled me behind the garage and we..."

 _Oh, Jesus, Santana. Why,_ why _would you do this to yourself? And Rachel?_

"Sh-sh-she kissed me and I tried to stop. I told her that I d-didn't want to hurt Rachel."

_But you did._

"I don't know w-why I couldn't stop myself. I know it was wrong. I kn-know that I'm a terrible person. It j-just...I couldn't."

Quinn had never heard her sound so lost. As much as her anger was spiking at what she had done, she felt she needed to hear the whole story.

"Santana, did you have sex with Brittany?"

The way she buried her face in her lap and started crying again made Quinn really struggle not to lose her temper. Santana was not an idiot. And she was a control freak. Quinn didn't believe for a second that she didn't have enough control to stop herself.

"Why, Santana?" she found herself whispering out loud.

"I know!" she sobbed. "I'm a terrible person. No excuse is good enough for what I did. It's inexcusable."

"It is," Quinn agreed. "What are you going to do?"

Santana was quiet for a while as she tried to regulate her breathing again. "I don't know," she eventually whispered.

Quinn huffed in frustration. "It's one thing to pretend that a kiss didn't happen, Santana, but this is crossing the line. You need to take responsibility for this. Ignoring it is not gonna cut it. Not this time."

Santana pushed herself up and looked at her incredulously as she wiped her tear-stained face. "I _know_ that, Quinn. Why do you think I've been fucking crying for the last three fucking hours? I know that I fucked up. And it's killing me that this is going to hurt an amazing girl, no matter what I do."

"Are you and Brittany together or something?" Quinn asked.

"No," Santana said, her voice dropping to a whisper. She looked down. "No, whatever happened is _never_ going to happen again."

"That sounds familiar," Quinn muttered.

"Jesus, Quinn! Whose fucking side are you on?"

"Rachel's!" Quinn snapped back. "Someone needs to be thinking about her in this mess because apparently you only think about your libido."

"Okay, first off, _don't_ accuse me of not thinking about how this will affect her because that's all I've been doing. Second, I fucked Brittany. She didn't fuck me. So I wasn't thinking with my libido."

Quinn scoffed. "So you were thinking about Rachel when you fucked her best friend?"

"Jesus, no!" Santana said in exasperation. "Obviously not."

"Which means that you wanted to do it, Santana. The bottom line is you _wanted_ to fuck Brittany and so you did. That is unacceptable, no matter how much you try and sugar-coat it."

"I feel like I'm talking to a wall," Santana muttered. "I _know_ all of this, Quinn. What do you suggest? That I tell Rachel and destroy the best relationship I've been in as well as her friendship with Brittany? Or that I keep it a secret and slowly kill myself with guilt?"

"You should feel guilty! Rachel doesn't deserve this!"

Santana was crying tears of frustration. "Quinn, _I fucking know!_ Okay? I feel like the worst person in the world. I care about Rachel so much and I regret every second of cheating on her."

"So why did you, then? You said you tried to stop, but you obviously didn't try very hard."

Santana took a calming breath and sat back against her headboard. "Can I ask you something?" she asked quietly.

"Hmmm," Quinn mused, arching a brow.

"When you and Puck...when you had sex, you said one thing led to another. Did you feel like you had control?"

Quinn contemplated Santana's question. She hadn't thought of it like that. And she realised that she sounded a little bit hypocritical. "I guess if I'm honest," she said carefully, hesitantly meeting Santana’s eyes, "then no. It felt really good and I didn't want to stop."

Santana nodded and looked down at her fingers.

"But," Quinn felt the need to add, "I wasn't with anyone. I was single and I didn't have any responsibility to be faithful to someone."

"I know," Santana whispered. "But do you remember that feeling? Where you felt like nothing in the world mattered other than that moment with the person you were with because it felt so amazing?"

Quinn bit her lip. She did know that feeling. She had felt it. "San, if you're able to feel that with Brittany, should you even be with Rachel?"

"But I feel it with her too."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So what are you going to do?"

Santana sighed and rubbed her face vigorously with her hands. "Brittany said that she wasn't going to say anything. But I can't keep this from Rachel. I won't lie to her. I hate that this is going to hurt her."

"Are you going to say that it was Brittany?"

"I... Should I?"

Quinn shrugged. "That's your call. I would suggest you talk to Brittany, but seeing as how alone time between you two just ends in disaster, perhaps that isn't the best avenue."

"Hmmm," Santana mused. "What if I texted her?"

"You have her number?"

"Yeah, Rachel gave it to me in case I couldn't get hold of her or whatever."

"Then maybe you should do that."

Santana sighed. "How did I fuck this up so badly?"

Quinn paused. "San, do you have any feelings for Brittany?"

She watched as a myriad of emotions crossed Santana’s face. Even in the dark, they knew each other so well.

"When I'm with her, like the way we were, my body reacts. I'm attracted to her, yes. I don't deny that." She sighed. "As lame as it sounds, I feel like I'm addicted to her. But only when we're in those close quarter situations. She completely intoxicates me. I feel amazing when I'm with Rachel, but Brittany...I don't know. It's like I'm drunk and high and she's my fix." She huffs. "That sounds ridiculous."

"It does," Quinn agrees. "I've asked you this before. Would you try and attempt something more than whatever it is you've been doing with Brittany if you and Rachel were together?"

"She said that she's not attracted to girls, but that she can't stop thinking about me," Santana confessed quietly. "The way she kissed me...it felt like it was more than physical."

"And was it?"

"Yes, it was physical, but there were moments where we just looked at each other and I could see in her eyes that she was struggling with what she was feeling."

"Okay," Quinn said slowly. "So back to my question. Would you attempt a relationship with her?"

"Brittany? No." Santana shook her head. "She's so convinced that she doesn't like girls and hey, maybe she doesn't. Maybe I'm an exception or something. Like the forbidden fruit because I'm her best friend's girlfriend. But she is no way ready for anything emotional with me. Or any other girl."

"Do you want to be with her?"

That kept her mind occupied for a while and Quinn took the time to evaluate what Santana had described she was feeling. She could understand the intoxicating feeling of being with someone and not really being able to control the urge to just _feel_ them. Her experience hadn't ended up the way she'd hoped. God, it had been an utter disaster. And now Santana was going through the exact same thing. Was it ironic that the two people they'd lost themselves in used to be a couple?

"I want to be with Rachel," Santana eventually said, breaking Quinn out of her thoughts. "I want to be with her for the foreseeable future. As incredible as being with Brittany may feel, it's wrong. Besides the fact that I cheated, Brittany doesn't even know what she wants."

Quinn nodded in agreement. "San, I really hope that things work out for you and Rachel, but if you choose to keep this from her, I'm not going to support you."

"I know. I don't blame you." She sighed. "I need to talk to Brittany."

"Be careful, San. Please don't get sucked in."

"I won't." Her voice was determined. "Brittany needs to know that what happened between us was a mistake...again."

"Bet you didn't think this year would end up with me falling pregnant and you hooking up with the two most popular girls in school."

"I sometimes still can't believe it," Santana murmured. "Sometimes I hope that I'm just going to wake up from a really long dream and realise that I wasn't _actually_ that stupid and irresponsible." She paused. "Rachel's going to be really worried. But I have to talk to Brittany before I can talk to her."

"I'll take care of Rachel," Quinn offered.

Santana raised an eyebrow.

"What? We went for coffee today and we got to chatting. She's actually really nice. Which is kinda why I'm really pissed that you cheated on her. Again."

"I know," Santana said, hanging her head in shame.

"Look, the two of them are cheering tonight so the chances of you getting anything from Brittany until tomorrow are slim. Sleep on it and deal with Wonder Barbie tomorrow."

Santana nodded. "Thanks, Quinnie. I know you're not very happy with what I've done – neither am I – but it means the world that you're still here."

"Yeah, yeah," Quinn brushed off with a smile. "Best friends and all that."

"I love you, Quinnie."

"Love you too, San."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brittana Discord Server? Yes? You should join - https://discord.gg/WUpexmr


	19. Chapter 19

Santana stared at her phone. She stared so long and hard that the blinking red light started to swim in front of her eyes. She squeezed them closed and pinched the bridge of her nose underneath her glasses. Her eyes were dry from hours of crying and barely any sleep. She definitely wasn’t looking for sympathy though. Hell no. Not after what she did.

Which brought her back to her phone.

Should I check the messages? Or should I just text Brittany and get it over and done with?

She felt like she was gonna chicken out if she didn’t. She sat up straight on her bed, crossed her legs and held her phone ready. She unlocked it and bypassed the missed calls and messages, immediately opening up a new text.

_Crap. What the hell am I gonna say?_

What did one say to a girl that she’d kissed and fucked on two separate occasions and who happened to be best friends with her girlfriend?

Girlfriend…

The thought made her heart hurt. But deservedly so. Rachel didn’t deserve any of this. Santana didn’t deserve her either.

She sniffed and focused on the screen in front of her. It took her ten minutes to come up with the words that conveyed what she needed to say _and_ would definitely require a response from Brittany. If she didn’t reply, well…

Brittany, what happened yesterday was unforgivable. I’m not going to lie to Rachel anymore. You’re her best friend and I believe it should be your choice whether or not you want to come clean. But I am. Today. Just giving you a heads up. Santana.

She let out a deep breath as she read over the text for the twentieth time. Her thumb hovered shakily over the send button. Santana closed her eyes and pressed.

She wished that it didn’t feel like she’d just ruined the lives of two best friends.

* * *

Brittany groaned as she heard her phone.

What the fricking frack? Who in the hell is texting me so fucking early on a Saturday morning?

She reached blindly on her bedside table and cracked an eye open to look at the time.

Seven-twenty? Hell fucking no.

She dropped her phone back on the bedside table and rolled over – straight into something. Her head flew up.

“What the fuck?”

Her voice was croaky due to the what-the-fuck-am-I-even-doing-up hour of the morning and that was when she realised that she was naked. And _then_ she remembered Artie’s post-game party. And she remembered getting deliciously wasted and suggesting that her new fuck buddy put himself to good use.

Under no circumstances had she invited him to stay the night, though.

She started pushing and kicking him. He woke with a start and turned to look at her with a dopey grin.

_Seriously? Why is he attractive again?_

She remembered his ability on the dance floor and how it…extended to the bedroom. She couldn’t help but giggle quietly at her early morning wit.

“What’s up?”

“Why are you here?” Brittany asked sharply, her voice more cutting the more awake she became.

It was sacrilege that she was _actually_ waking up before ten on a Saturday.

“Um, wow, okay. I know you were pretty wasted last night, but-“

“No, Finnocence, why you are you still in my bed?” Brittany interrupted, rolling her eyes.

“Oh.”

Brittany arched an eyebrow. “Take the hint. This arrangement is nothing beyond physical, okay? Which mean no sleepovers.”

“Christ, Britt. Puck always said you were a bitch, but he was being nice.”

She wasn’t fazed. “If it bothers you so much, there’s the door and don’t even think about getting back in my bed.”

Finn sighed and pushed back the covers, looking on the floor for his clothes. Brittany pulled a face. Why was it that the boys she slept with always seemed more attractive when she was drunk? Finn was dressed in about a minute and Brittany wiggled her fingers in a goodbye as he opened her bedroom door and glared at her.

“You’ll be back,” she muttered once the door was closed.

She leaned over and grabbed her phone, ready to unleash all kinds of hell on the idiot who thought it was normal to text so early in the fucking morning. Her eyes widened when she saw the sender was Santana.

Brittany briefly allowed herself to remember their encounter the previous afternoon. As amazing as it had felt, it had accomplished exactly what she’d expected it to. She had felt a little guilty after seeing Santana so…disgusted with herself, but once she’d arrived home and started getting ready for the game, she’d actually never felt better and hadn’t thought of her again.

Her mouth dropped open as she read the text.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Was she fucking suicidal? Rachel would skin her alive! _Before_ dumping her ass. Brittany shook her head. If Santana wanted to shoot herself in the foot, no way was she going down with her. She typed back a message quickly.

You do realise that it’s suicide, right? Whatever. Do what you want. Just don’t drag me down with you. And don’t text me this fucking early again. In fact, rather just don’t text me at all.

Brittany yawned, turning her phone off and rolling over, burying her face in her pillow and letting sleep overtake her.

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Santana couldn’t believe that Brittany was so cold, so callous and _such_ a bitch. Well, maybe that should be rephrased. She wasn’t surprised. She’d just thought she’d changed.

That’s what you get for trying to see the good in people where there isn’t any.

She angrily blinked back the unwitting tears and let her fingers do the talking for her.

You truly are a piece of work. Rachel is your best friend. Does that even mean anything to you? If it doesn’t, you’re more of a self-centred, cold-hearted coward than I ever gave you credit for. You’re a bitch, Brittany Pierce and there’s no need to worry – I’ll be deleting your number as soon as this text is sent. We can finish that fight in Hell later.

If things had been bad between them before the fight, McKinley hadn’t even begun to estimate Santana’s wrath if she ever saw Brittany in the halls.

_What about Rachel?_

Santana deflated. Brittany was an absolute coward, but she’d said she wouldn’t mention her name. After all the fucked up things she’d done, she could at least _try_ and keep her word. Rachel was going to be devastated enough without losing her best friend.

She glanced down at her phone and scrolled through her notifications. Four missed calls, all from Rachel, and five text messages. Three were from Rachel, all very caring and concerned which only made Santana feel worse. There was one from her mom, asking if she wanted dinner. Guess she got that one a bit late. The last message was from Quinn, encouraging her to do the right thing.

The right thing for whom?

Santana sighed and got off her bed. It was about time she started thinking about what was right for Rachel instead of herself.

* * *

She’d driven around for two hours because she didn’t think it appropriate showing up at the Berry residence at quarter to eight on a Saturday without warning.

Santana finally had enough courage to pull up outside Rachel’s house and kill the engine before driving away again. She pulled out her phone.

10:04.

She typed a quick _Are you up? I’m outside_ and waited. Not a minute later, her phone buzzed.

Yay! Come in :)

God, she was the worst person in the history of the world.

Santana took a deep breath and opened her car door, looking up at the house and remembering the last time she’d knocked on the door. The night she met Rachel’s fucking parents. And now she was there to break her heart.

 _Do the right thing_.

She shook herself and walked up the pathway. Before she could knock on the door, it flew open and Rachel was standing there in her pyjamas. Santana wished that her body didn’t react to the skimpy attire. She really needed to maintain a clear head.

“Hey, you,” Rachel greeted with a big smile, grabbing her hand and pulling her in for a kiss. “This is such a great surprise.”

Santana allowed herself to kiss Rachel back, trying her hardest not pull away too quickly. She didn’t want to do this in Rachel’s doorway.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “Can we go up to your room?”

“Sure,” Rachel replied, her grin becoming cocky.

Oh, Rachel, I wish we were going to do that, but you won’t want to look at me after I’ve finished what I need to say.

She let Rachel pull her up the stairs and into her room.

Hmmm. We had our first kiss here. Even if it was a little…unexpected.

Santana sat down at Rachel’s desk while she sat on the bed. She frowned when she saw that Santana wasn’t joining her.

“Everything okay?”

Santana took a deep breath. “Not really, no. Rachel, I need to tell you something and you need to hear me out before you say anything.”

“Okay.” She said it slowly and the uncertainty was apparent.

Santana squeezed her eyes together, as if that would somehow conjure up some mystical power that would make this not hurt.

“I… Something happened,” Santana began. “I didn’t plan it, I didn’t expect it, but that fact is it did. And I didn’t tell you. I…I kissed someone. Two weeks ago. Um, I’d like to say that it was a fleeting thing, but it wasn’t.” She didn’t chance a look at Rachel. “And then yesterday, things…went further. Um, I just…I didn’t want to lie to you anymore and I know that I am the absolute worst person on the planet-“

“Get out.”

Santana’s head snapped up and her eyes widened at the sight of tears streaming down Rachel’s face and the complete crushed expression she was wearing.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

Santana quickly stood and turned, knowing better than to say anything more. She opened the door and closed it behind her, letting her own tears fall. Just as she started walking down the stairs, Rachel’s door flew open.

“What it worth it?” she shouted.

Santana spun around in surprise, taking in the fuming girl in front of her. Their eyes met and Santana just shook her head. “No.”

Rachel set her jaw and glared at her. “Out of everyone in this fucking town, I figured you were the one person who would never do something like this. I thought you were one of the good guys. I was the bad guy. Now all I am is a fucking idiot.”

“Rachel, I-“

“No, you don’t get to say _anything_ to me right now,” Rachel seethed, the tears still tracking down her cheeks. Santana wanted so badly to hug her, but she stayed where she was. “Do you have any idea how humiliated I feel? I became an entirely different person for you. I took care of you when you were hurt. I made sure you didn’t get suspended. I took a fucking slushie for you. And you repay me by fucking some slut on the side? Wow. I guess you _really_ cared, Santana. Thanks so fucking much for setting the record straight. At least now I know I’ve been played.”

Santana’s bottom lip trembled with all the things she wanted to say, but couldn’t. Any words would fall on deaf ears. Rachel was too mad to really hear anything she had to say and she couldn’t blame her. She’d been devastated when her last girlfriend had cheated on her and she’d gone and done the exact same thing.

“What, now Santana Lopez has no witty comeback? No clever retort?”

Santana straightened up a little. “Nothing I say will excuse what I did. All that I can say is that I am so incredibly sorry that I hurt you, Rachel. I really care about you and-“

“You know, I really hate it when people say that,” Rachel cut in. “They say I really care about you and then follow it up with a really, _really_ shitty thing. Why, Santana?”

Shit. Didn’t plan for that one. Why the fuck did I not anticipate that question?

“I honestly don’t know, Rachel. I’m going to be honest with you and say that I did have an attraction to her and I made a seriously bad judgment call.”

“You had an _attraction_?”

Santana opened her mouth, but never got the chance.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You had an attraction to someone else and you didn’t think it would be worth mentioning at some point?”

“I tried to downplay it. I thought it was a fleeting thing.”

“Well, as you so memorably said, it wasn’t a fleeting thing, was it, Santana?”

“No,” she mumbled, looking down in shame.

“Who is she?”

Crap.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The fuck it doesn’t.”

“Rachel, it _doesn’t_. I knew as soon as it happened that it was a mistake.”

“Oh, really? Was that before or after you fucked her? Or wait, does that include this kiss two weeks ago as well? Wow. You’ve made some pretty big mistakes of late, Santana.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“Why won’t you tell me who she is?”

“Please, Rachel. It doesn’t matter. You don’t even know her.”

 _Not a complete untruth. I’m pretty sure she’s never met_ that _Brittany._

“Oh my God. I _do_ know her.”

_What?_

“Don’t forget that I’m a pro at coming up with excuses for ditching girls, Santana. I know all the tricks and all the lines. You cheated on me with someone I know. _Well_ , that kind of just makes things worse, doesn’t it?”

Santana met her eyes again.

“You’re protecting her by not telling me, which means that you care about her. Which is a fuck you very much in the face for me.”

“No, I don’t care about her. She just used me and I feel like an idiot.”

“ _You_ feel like an idiot? _I’m_ the one that stopped my Casanova ways to be with you because I thought that you were worth it. Guess we just flipped things on the head, huh? Trade roles? You get the role of the villain and I’m the victim. Fucking dandy.”

“I’m sorry,” Santana whispered. “I know you think it’s bullshit, but I do still care about you. And I want to be with you.”

Rachel gave a short laugh. “Oh my God. This must be some kind of hidden camera show. Are you serious, Santana? After everything I did, you turn around and cheat and expect me to just forgive and forget?”

“No, of course not. I fully expect you to never talk to me the moment I walk out of this house,” Santana replied in a pained voice. “I just want you to know that I know it was a mistake and it will never happen again. And that if you deem me worthy to give us another chance, then I’ll be waiting. Until then, I really am sorry.”

They held eye contact for a long time before Rachel mumbled, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Santana watched as her ex-girlfriend turned and walked away, slamming her bedroom door closed behind her. She continued descending the stairs, furiously wiping at her eyes. By the time she reached her car, she was sobbing again. She sat on the ground next to the car and tried to get herself under control, but it was a good five minutes before she was able to breath relatively normally and not feel like she was going to burst into tears spontaneously.

Her eyes lifted to Rachel’s window, but the blinds were drawn.

* * *

Sunday was a non-existent day for Santana. She lay in bed and just stared at her wall for the majority of the day. Quinn came by and she told her what happened and Quinn just held her for a bit. With her permission, Quinn relayed what had happened with Rachel to Santana’s mom. Understandably, Carmen was very confused. Quinn left out the reason _why_ they’d broken up.

Monday came far too quickly and Santana stood under the shower in a daze. She knew that she looked like a zombie. She felt like a zombie. She had no energy to do anything, least of all deal with school. She mustered up enough self-respect to hide the prominent bags under eyes and tone down the puffiness with make-up. She still looked like shit though.

She walked downstairs and grabbed two apples, tossing them into her bag and headed out of the house, thankfully avoiding her mother. She’d told Quinn that she wanted to go into school by herself. She figured that she’d best get comfortable with her own company seeing as how she was going to be spending a lot of time by herself.

The drive to McKinley was far too short and yet Santana knew she couldn’t stall the inevitable any longer. She got out of her car and pulled her hoodie up, effectively hiding her face.

“Hey, Santana,” Tina called, waving.

She returned a tight-lipped smile that was gone before it was even really there. She headed for her locker and opened it. She froze at the pictures of her and Rachel adorning the door. She grabbed her first period books and slammed it closed, the sound reverberating down the hall. She spun on her heel and headed for homeroom.

She could hear the whispers, but they’d never really bothered her before so she tuned them out with her music on full blast. It wasn’t like anyone cared, really.

Well, no one that mattered.

* * *

Brittany frowned at Rachel. She’d been in a bad mood all morning, even for Rachel. Part of her wanted to know what had happened between her and Santana, but a bigger part of her was just glad that Santana hadn’t mentioned her name. If she had, she doubted she’d be walking through the halls next to her as they always did.

She met Finn’s eyes as they passed each other and smirked. She knew that he stopped and turned around to look at her. She swayed her hips a little extra.

“Could you stop parading?” Rachel muttered. “You look like a fucking peacock.”

“Oh, it speaks!” Brittany teased, spinning her combo on her lock. “I was wondering if you’d lost your tongue.”

“Bite me, Pierce.”

“Hmmm, I think I’ll leave that to the half of population that actually wants to.”

Rachel glared up at her and the deep-seated pain that Brittany glimpsed caused the smile to drop from her face immediately.

_Crap. She’s fucking hurting. Badly._

“Are you okay?” Brittany asked timidly, pulling out her books.

“Dandy.”

Brittany knew that voice.

“Rach, come on. I know you better than that. You told me not so long ago that you can read me better than I thought. Well, the same goes for you.”

Rachel sighed and leaned back against her locker. “Santana and I broke up.”

Brittany’s eyes widened. She’d been expecting it, but to actually hear the words…the finality of them kinda hit her. “What? Why? I thought everything was lovely in Lesboland.”

_God, you are a hypocrite._

Brittany shook her head slightly. Where the hell had _that_ voice come from?

“She…” Rachel looked down and swallowed hard, playing with her fingers. “She cheated on me.”

“Santana cheated on you?” Brittany repeated, surprised at how shocked she sounded. She was obviously a better liar than she originally thought.

“Twice.”

“ _Twice_?”

“And she won’t tell me who.”

“You wanna cut a bitch.”

Rachel’s head shot up and she grimaced. “I appreciate the effort, Britt, but you can’t do ghetto so don’t even try. It’s sad.”

“Was that a glimmer of Rachel Berry that I saw there?” Brittany retorted with a grin. “Could it be? Has the top lady lover finally come home to roost on the top of the pedestal?”

Rachel smirked and Brittany matched it.

Oh, yeah. Things were about to be put back the way they were supposed to be.

* * *

A body walked straight into Santana as she headed for the choir room. No way was she spending an hour in the cafeteria where she knew she’d see both Rachel and Brittany.

“Watch it, Godzilla,” she snapped, glaring at the guilty party.

“Whoooa, you need to chill, pretty girl. It’s all good.”

Santana pulled her hood back and stared at familiar bushy brown hair and unfocused hazel eyes.

“Blaine?”

“How’d you know me?” Blaine asked, squinting at her. “Are you an alien? Did you abduct me and do shit to my brain?”

Santana blinked. What the fuck happened to Blaine Anderson, the boy who lived behind her and who she used to sing duets with every Sunday?

“It’s Santana,” she said. She searched his eyes. “Are you high?”

“Not anymore,” Blaine replied with a heavy sigh. “You got some weed? We could get high together.”

For the first time in her life, Santana seriously considered it, but she didn’t know the first place to get weed. Anything would be better than feeling like this.

“You’re out of luck, buddy. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since the beginning of freshman year.”

“Oh, my dad totally got busted for growing weed in the back yard so he went to like rehab and stuff and I had to go stay with my mom in Missouri. Like what a trip, man. Lamest place ever. But they did have top class Mary Jane. Hey, hey, Santana. You still like girls?”

Santana grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“Awesome. You know Mary Jane, right?”

She frowned in confusion at him. He’d definitely smoked something way too strong before school.

“Sorry, Blaine. I’m kinda avoiding her right now.”

“Ah, that sucks. She’s a cool chick, though. I’m sure it’ll all be good.” Blaine grinned and for the first time since Friday, Santana found herself cracking a small smile.

“You got lunch?” she asked.

Blaine looked perplexed and then held up a brown bag in his hand. “Totally do. My dad made me PB and J. How frigging rad is that?”

“Rad?” Santana had to stifle a laugh. “Blaine, you may wanna give that word back to the sixties and stick with something from your lifespan.”

“Totally,” Blain agreed. “What you got?”

Santana shrugged. “Just two apples.”

“Apples?” Blaine’s eyes suddenly widened. “Like…green apples?”

“Yeah,” Santana replied slowly.

“Do you think…” Blaine suddenly looked nervous and Santana found it entirely adorable. He’d always been such a lovable dork. “D’you think that if I gave you half of my PB and J that I could have an apple?”

He looked so hopeful that Santana was pretty sure that unicorns would start crying or some shit if she said no.

“Sure, Blaine. That sounds like a good deal. You know a place we can go? I don’t feel like…people today.”

“I’ll take you to my super special place.”

Coming from anyone else, Santana would’ve ripped them a new one, but she’d never been able to be mean to Blaine. With three obnoxious older brothers, he’d been a refreshing ray of sunshine in her life. As soon as puberty hit and Blaine’s voice broke and, she guessed, he discovered the wonders of pot, they hadn’t really spoken.

They ended up under the bleachers on a ratty old couch. She saw Coach Figgins wandering around, but he looked mesmerised by the grass.

“That guy is so weird,” she muttered.

“Figgins?” Blaine chuckled. “Yeah, he’s cool. He lets us crash here whenever so long as we hook him up.”

“Hold up. Who’s we? And ‘hook him up’? You mean, with _weed_?” She whispered the last word.

“Duh. I dunno how these crazy teachers survive without it. Pretty sure I wrote my chemistry midterm last year completely blazed.” He looked serious before breaking into another goofy grin. Santana was starting to see it as a trademark grin. “I think I got a ninety-four on that or something.”

Santana chuckled. “Maybe I should give it a try.”

“Aren’t you like, a genius or something?”

“Definitely not. I get good grades and I’m on the honour roll, but I’m no genius.”

“Totally. You don’t look like Einstein. You have…” He trailed off and held his hands in front of his chest, imitating boobs.

“Jesus, Blaine. What are you, twelve?” She shoved him playfully and pulled out her two apples. She handed one to him and watched in amazement as he took it from her like it was made of gold.

“Did you know that apples have been around since 6500 BC?” he murmured.

“Fascinating,” Santana replied, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

“And they’re actually a member of the rose family.”

“The rose family?” Santana repeated. “Like the flower?”

“And there are about 7500 varieties of apples all over the world and 2500 just in the US.”

”God, how do you know all of this stuff?” Santana asked in wonder, taking a bite of hers.

“The crunchy deliciousness,” he mumbled, staring at her mouth as she chewed.

The intensity of his gaze made Santana incredibly self-conscious, which was totally a big deal for her.

“Blaine, you’re creeping me out.”

“That’s such a cool word, right?” he exclaimed suddenly, taking a huge bite of his own apple. “Creep. Awesome word.”

Santana sat back against the dirty couch and let herself laugh. Everything happened for a reason and she was exceptionally glad that she’d crossed paths with her old childhood friend. His quirky personality provided the exact distraction from her train wreck of a life that she desperately needed.

She leaned her head on his shoulder as they ate their apples in silence.

“Thanks, Blaine,” she said quietly, nibbling the core of her apple.

“For what?” he replied, but it was difficult to make out because he’d stuffed the entire core in his mouth and was just leaving it there.

Santana looked up at him and smiled. “For just being you. You’re saving me from myself.”

“Do you think I’ll get a lot of apple juice like this?” Blaine asked. Santana had _no_ idea how she was able to understand him, but she was. And she just chuckled and watched as bushy-haired Blaine tipped his head back to let the juice from his virtually juiceless apple core drip down his throat.

Blaine suddenly spit the core out. “Meet me here after school, okay?” he asked enthusiastically.

Santana just nodded with a smile. “If I meet you here, then you have to come somewhere with me afterwards.”

“Are we going to the moon?”

“Sure, buddy.”

* * *

Quinn looked around the school frantically for Santana. They had Glee rehearsal in ten minutes and she’d texted that morning to say that she’d meet her in the choir room right after school. She wasn’t picking up her phone and Quinn was flipping her shit.

She knew Santana wouldn’t do anything reckless or stupid. As much as she was hurting, she’d never hurt herself like that. But it didn’t stop Quinn from worrying. No matter what mood she was in, she rarely ignored her phone. Other than Friday, but that was an exception. It had been a…difficult day.

As glad as she was that Santana had come clean with Rachel, she hated how heartbroken she’d been the previous day. After knowing each other for five years, she’d witnessed more crying from Santana in the last three days than she had in all those five years put together. She truly did care about Rachel and now she’d lost her.

Quinn loved Santana, but she’d created this mess herself. Well, her and _Brittany_. Quinn seethed with rage when she saw the two Cheerios walking around together, laughing. Santana was broken and Rachel didn’t seem to care and Brittany…well, she just continued to show how unscrupulous she actually was.

“Christ, Santana, don’t pull a disappearing act on me now,” she muttered, heading out for the football field in desperation. She never went out this way, but maybe that why Quinn may find her there.

As she neared the bleachers, she heard a very familiar high-pitched laugh. She frowned. That was her happy laugh. Had something happened to make her happy again? Maybe Rachel had decided to work things out with her? With a smile on her face, Quinn made her way underneath the bleachers. The smile froze on her face and slowly fell when she saw the scene in front of her.

Santana was hanging over the back of a gross, dirty couch that was probably crawling with every disease known to man with a _joint_ in her hand. She was giggling uncontrollably and Quinn watched, open-mouthed, as her best friend, the girl she _thought_ she knew inside and out, took a deep drag of the thick joint.

“Hold it, hold it, hold it,” a boy was crazy afro hair chanted, doing some weird dance.

Santana started flexing her hand until she exhaled a huge cloud of smoke. She started spluttering and laughing at the same time.

“Dude, that was way longer than last time,” she said, her speech slurring slightly.

She’d seen enough. “Santana Lopez!”

Santana froze and spun around, standing up straight with her hand meeting her head in a salute. She looked terrified and then glanced up to see that the hand by her temple had the lit joint.

“Hmmm,” she murmured, taking another drag.

“For fuck’s sake, Santana, what in the hell are you doing?” Quinn snapped.

Santana’s eyes finally focused on her and a huge grin broke out over her face. “Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, look, look. It’s Quinnie! She’s my bestest friend in the whole wide world. Do you remember? She came over to my house a lot and you were totally in love with her and you wanted to sing a song to her and-Oh! Blaine, come with us to Glee! You’ll love it! Just like we used to sing, remember? You can dance too cos I know you got moves. You can sing and dance and we can be best friend forever!”

All that was said in about three seconds.

“Rad,” Blaine replied with a grin.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

Wait…Blaine. Blaine Anderson? Santana’s old neighbour from when they were kids? Wow, some people really do change.

“Rad,” Santana repeated with vigour, taking another drag.

“Okay, that’s enough for you,” Quinn said, taking the joint out of her hand. “You, Blaine, here. Dispose of this.”

“What, like eat it?” he asked with a straight face.

Santana broke out in peals of laughter. “Eat it!” she chanted between giggles. “Go on, eat it! You don’t even need to make ‘em into brownies cos it’s already weed!”

Quinn rolled her eyes. If seeing Santana so messed up wasn’t sad, she’d be filming it and killing herself laughing.

“Hey, San. Come on, we’re gonna be late for Glee.”

Santana reached out a grabbed Blaine’s arm. He was still looking at the joint as if contemplating whether or not to ingest it.

“Crap,” Quinn muttered. “Blaine, toss it on the ground and stomp it out.”

“But Quinnie,” Santana whined. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You can’t leave any evidence behind. The Mary Johns will find us and then no more weed.” She held up her empty hands and pouted.

_Huh?_

“Mary Johns?” she repeated.

“Yeah, you know, the guys who come looking for Mary Jane. Duh. Where have you been? I’ve been talking about this for the last half hour!”

Quinn really did have to fight a smile that time because Santana was absolutely convinced that Quinn should know what she’s talking about.

“So Blaine, you’re gonna join Glee?” she asked instead.

“Sure,” he replied with an easy smile. “I mean, I haven’t sung in a while, but Santana said she’d smoke with me if I went with her to Glee.”

“You did what?” she furiously asked the girl that she was half dragging back to the school.

Santana wrinkled her nose. “Quinnie, you smell funny.” She leaned closer and sniffed, then her eyes widened. “Quinn Fabray! Have you been smoking marijuana?”

She stopped in shock as Santana regained her balance and put her hands on her hips in a very disappointed mother stance. “Now, Quinn. I know things have been difficult over the last few weeks, but turning to drugs is not the answer.” She pointed a stern finger at her. “Stay in school.”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She burst out laughing at Santana’s unbelievably out of character behaviour. She didn’t care that Santana was probably in denial or projecting or whatever. What she cared about was that she was grinning like an idiot two days after she’d broken her own heart.

“Ooooh, vending machine,” Santana said, making her way to the big red container of all things sweet and not-so-nutritious. She felt around in her pockets. “Quinn, gimme a dollar.”

“San, where’s your bag?” Quinn asked, folding her arms.

“There by the thing.” Santana snapped her fingers, eyeing the candy bars hungrily. “Don’t make me tell your mother what I caught you doing.”

Quinn grinned and handed over two dollar bills. Santana fed them into the machine and started punching numerous buttons. Three candy bars fell to the floor and she grabbed them, holding them close to her with an evil smile on her face.

“They thought they could escape my clutches, but now they’re mine… _mine_!” She punctuated her lame villain voice with an equally lame evil laugh. “The salad bar shall live to die another day.”

Holding one candy bar as a gun she started humming the James Bond theme music as she stealthily (meaning, not stealthily at all) crept along the walls inside the school.

“You guys, take one. It’s dangerous out there,” she whispered frantically.

Quinn took one and followed behind her and Blaine, who totally got into their spy gig. They exchanged nonsensical hand gestures (she was pretty sure she saw a Funky Chicken move at one point) and continued on the same path they were.

Quinn giggled to herself as she munched on the candy bar, trailing behind Santana and Blaine as they made their way to Glee Club in the most entertaining way she’d ever imagined.

* * *

“Anyone seen Santana or Quinn?” Ms. Sylvester asked, frowning.

Brittany glanced around. She wasn’t really surprised. Santana was probably hurt and pissed and didn’t want to see anyone, especially Rachel.

Or you.

Seriously? What the fuck was up with that voice?

“Do you hear something?” Mercedes asked, narrowing her eyes as she strained her ears.

Brittany did. She heard strange noises that sounded something like humming, but truly terrible humming. And that was coming from someone who didn’t give a shit about pitch and all that. As the noises got louder, she found herself recognising the garbled music. It was some spy movie or something.

Suddenly the door burst open, but there was no one there. The humming continued, though. Slowly, Santana’s head appeared around the door, but was gone again in a flash. Frantic hand movement were the only things visible. Everyone in the choir room was shocked into silence, no doubt intrigued to find out what the hell was going on.

And then Quinn walked through the door, eating a candy bar or something, looking as calm as ever until a tan hand grabbed her and pulled her back out.

“Quinn! It’s too dangerous! You don’t know what’s out there!” came a very loud whisper that everyone could hear.

 _Was that Santana?_ Brittany thought in confusion. Something was definitely up. Maybe this was some grand scheme to get Rachel’s attention or maybe even…

No. _No_. Definitely not.

Eventually, the humming entered the room. Santana crept in first, armed with a…candy bar? Brittany bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She somehow didn’t think that Rachel would appreciate it.

 _James Bond_! She suddenly remembered the spy music.

Okay, so Santana was James Bond. And she was protecting Quinn, assumedly. And…some strange afro dude that she’d never seen before.

“Who’s that?” she whispered to Rachel.

She didn’t get an answer, though, and turned her head to see a hurt look on Rachel’s face. Her jaw was set hard and her arms were folded tightly across her chest.

Oh, shit. This isn’t gonna end well.

When Brittany turned back to Santana’s grand entrance, she and Afroboy were pointing their candy bars fiercely at everyone. Until Santana abruptly stopped.

“Oh, it’s you guys!” she said with a grin. “I totally thought you were like a super evil organisation from Kazakhstan.”

_Kazakhstan?_

She unwrapped the candy bar and started eating it as she walked to some open seats in the front row, far away from her and Rachel. Thank God.

Everyone was kind of just staring at Santana, Brittany included. Sure, she was normally goofy and a little eccentric, but even this was a little off base for her. Quinn didn’t look too worried, so Brittany assumed that everything was sort of okay.

Ms. Sylvester was the first to break the silence. “Um, Santana, whilst I applaud your dramatic entrance-“

“There’s nothing dramatic about candy bars, Ms. S, okay?” Santana cut in fiercely. “They make the world go round.”

Tina and Mercedes were to first to snort. Ms. S just looked dumbfounded.

“Shall we continue, then?” she said tiredly. “This week’s assignment is…” She trailed off as Santana’s hand went waving around in the air frantically. She looked almost desperate. “Yes, Santana, what?”

“I have a question,” she replied timidly.

Brittany stared at her. What the fuck was she on? Either that or she was one hell of an actress.

“And what is that question?” Ms. S asked in irritation.

“Um…” Santana frowned and looked at the candy bar, taking a huge bite of it and looking up thoughtfully.

This time Tina and Mercedes started giggling. Santana grinned a mouthful of chocolate at them and Brittany felt the corners of her mouth turn up. She was really trying not to laugh, okay? She didn’t dare look at Rachel again.

“Blaine!” Santana suddenly yelled, standing up. “Oh my God, where’s Blaine? Did he die in the field?”

“San, he’s right next to you,” Quinn said calmly.

Santana turned to her right and threw her arms around Afroboy.

Okay, seriously. What. The. Fuck.

“I thought you died!” she squealed. “I’m so happy you’re alive. Oh! You can join Glee with us! It’s so awesome, Blaine. We sing and we dance and I know you can sing and dance and then we can eat candy bars and be secret agents forever.”

Holy shit. Santana’s high.

It was so obvious now. Brittany shook her head in disbelief, but it didn’t stop a smile from crawling onto her face. She leaned down to Rachel.

“She’s high as a kite.”

Rachel’s reaction was definitely unexpected too. Her mouth dropped open and she shook her head in disbelief.

“We’re gonna sing!” Santana announced. “Come on, Warbler. Oh my God! I used to call you that when we were younger! Do you remember, Blaine? Blaine Warbler.” She laughed.

Afroboy, apparently Blaine, just grinned and stood up. He stood next to Santana as they whispered to each other quickly.

“Santana, is there-“

She held up her candy bar to cut Ms. S off and then she and Afroboy started snapping their fingers. They started humming together and it sounded a million times better than the theme music crap they were doing earlier. Brittany leaned a little forward in her chair, curious to see was high Santana would come up with.

Afroboy started singing acapella and Brittany stifled a laugh.

_“I was gonna clean my room until I got high. I gonna get up and find the broom, but then I got high. My room is still messed up and I know why, because I got high. Because I got high. Because I got high.”_

Santana took the next verse and most of the Glee Club were joining in on humming the melody.

Everyone joined in for the rest of the song and Brittany was pleasantly surprised to hear Rachel’s voice harmonising along. Brittany caught her eye and winked. Rachel returned it and nudged her shoulder.

Okay, so maybe things were fucked up. But it seemed like everything might be getting better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ace_hlnwst on socials
> 
> Join our Brittana Discord server! We have a blast: https://discord.gg/WUpexmr


	20. Chapter 20

Everything was so not okay. Not even close to okay.

Brittany was sitting on the floor of the locker room, trying to catch her breath after walking in on something she really, _really_ hadn’t wanted to see.

At least not again.

* * *

Quinn held a tight grip on Santana’s arm to prevent anymore aimless wandering. Once Glee had finished, Quinn had made the mistake of going to the bathroom and leaving her best friend – her _high_ best friend – unattended. She’d spent the better part of twenty minutes searching the school for her before she’d found her in the gym analysing the fold-back bleachers. She didn’t even attempt to understand Santana’s reasoning either. Something about goblins.

“Where we gooooing?” Santana sang.

“You stink of weed and smoke. Your mother will skin both of us alive if you go home smelling the way you do. You’re going to take a shower before we leave.”

“A shower?” Santana asked excitedly. “Like with water?”

_How has she not come down yet? It’s been like two hours!_

“That is the general idea,” Quinn replied dryly. Santana’s…condition had quickly lost its humorous appeal after she’d interrupted Ms. S for the tenth time and then not said anything.

“ _We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful of wizard of McKinley High Schooool_ ,” Santana sang, her voice echoing down the hall.

Quinn rolled her eyes and pushed the locker doors open.

“Quinnie, you’re not gonna shower with me, are you?” Santana asked, sounding very serious and a lot like her old self. “Cos that’d be super weird.”

Quinn sighed and turned around. “I will be standing at these doors, San. You can change into your gym clothes, okay?”

“Where are they?” she asked innocently.

Quinn quickly walked to Santana’s locker and spun the dial, unlocking it and pulling her shirt and shorts out.

“How’d you do that?” Santana whispered in awe. “Are you omnipotent?”

 _She’s high but she can still remember crazy words that no one else can_.

“Santana, seriously, it’s not cute anymore. Just go and shower, okay? You’re not a child and I’m done treating you like one.”

The haziness in Santana’s eyes disappeared a little and her gaze became a lot clearer as a glare was focused right on Quinn. She swallowed. The Lopez glare was not pleasant to be on the receiving end of.

Santana grabbed a towel out of her locker and pulled her hoodie off roughly.

“Excuse me for wanting to momentarily escape the shithole that is my reality. Thanks for you unwavering support as always, Fabray.”

Quinn closed her eyes as Santana slammed her locker closed, the loud noise echoing around the empty locker room. Santana only called her by her last name when she was really pissed. She’d have some apologies to make once Santana was finished with her shower.

* * *

She really wished that she could just wish away the constant pain in her chest. She hated how quickly Quinn’s comment had killed her high. For two hours she had just allowed the effect of the weed to completely take over. For a control freak like her, relinquishing that kind of power over herself had required a lot of soul searching.

She didn’t regret it, not in the least. She barely remembered seeing Rachel or Brittany in Glee and that in itself was an accomplishment. She briefly contemplated meeting Blaine at his ratty old couch every morning. If she could kind of glide through school not noticing the two of them, maybe she could survive the giant cesspool that her life had become.

She hated what she’d done. She hated who she’d become. She’d done the one thing she’s sworn _never_ to do. And she’d done it to a girl that was actually pretty fucking amazing.

Santana turned on the water in the farthest stall and waited a few seconds for it to get warm so that she could adjust the temperature. She walked back to the closest bench and undressed, partly agreeing that her clothes really did stink. She was grateful that she’d decided to go with her contacts that morning. She hadn’t wanted to deal with foggy glasses or any of that shit because of her uncontrollable bouts of crying.

_Crap. Shampoo._

She wrapped her towel around herself and walked back to her locker, opening it and grabbing her shampoo, before closing it again. She got to the bench and dropped the towel before walking back towards the shower.

Her high wasn’t completely gone because the water droplets bouncing on her skin felt pretty fucking amazing and she closed her eyes, just letting herself get lost in the sensation of that high. Well, what was left of it. She lazily washed her hair, lathering the shampoo deep into her scalp, and rinsing it out a lot longer than she probably needed to. She didn’t know how long she spent in the shower – a lot longer than she normally did – but the water was just starting to decrease in temperature when she shut it off. She squeezed excess water out of her hair and walked slowly back to the bench, making sure that her thick hair was properly rinsed. If she left any unnecessary moisture in it, she’d look like Diana Ross in about an hour.

Maybe a slight exaggeration, but whatever. It wasn’t pretty, even if she was only going home. She reached the bench, bending down slightly for a hair band and standing up straight to tie her hair when she heard a gasp.

She looked up and saw the one person she _really_ didn’t want to, gaping at her, her blue eyes trailing up and down her naked body.

“Can I help you?” Santana snapped, pulling the hair band roughly around a messy ponytail.

Brittany’s eyes shot up to her face and she just stared before turning and disappearing behind a row of lockers.

“Whatever,” Santana muttered. Brittany Pierce was a bitch and there was no way in hell that anything would change her mind about that.

* * *

_Oh my God._

_That...wow._

_Her legs._

_Her abs._

_Her...hmmm..._

_Oh my God, her boobs. They were so..._

Brittany shook her head violently from the images swimming in her brain. Flashbacks of their first kiss in the sauna, of their moment in the hospital, of seeing her come in her guest bedroom, her _dreams,_ and of course when she'd given her the best orgasm she'd ever had.

 _Oh, no,_ Brittany groaned inwardly.

This was _not_ how things were supposed to go! She was over Santana! She was done with whatever stupid, inexplicable infatuation she'd had with her. She was done. She was straight. Completely and utterly straight.

Brittany tried to control her breathing, but the same visions entered her head unbidden and she felt a familiar ache in her gut.

“Fuck,” she whispered, very aware that she was still in the locker room and a very pissed off, very _naked_ Santana was probably still a few rows down.

She'd been fine earlier. They'd been fine earlier. Everyone and everything had been fucking fine earlier. Why did she have to be showering when Brittany was supposed to be doing inventory for Coach Em?

_Fucking OCD psycho cow. You've completely ruined me._

She sort of realised how silly it was for her to blame her coach for her thoughts and urges, but at that stage, Brittany was ready to lay blame to anyone and everyone but herself.

_It's not my fault! She...she didn't even try to hide herself!_

Brittany angled her head thoughtfully. It wasn't like she hadn't seen it before...twice... She'd run her hands over that caramel skin too...

_Ugh! Stop it!_

Brittany pushed herself up quietly. She needed to get this stupid inventory done and get home. She desperately needed a distraction. She pulled her phone out from her bra and tapped away, heading for the Cheerios store room.

_Finnocence... Miss me yet? House to myself tonight. I'll leave my door unlocked for you later if you're up for it... ;) xxxx Britt_

She needed...something. She needed to forget. She needed to be straight again. Brittany was straight.

_I'm straight. I like guys. I'm straight._

She kept repeating that like a mantra in her head until she got home and saw Finn's car in the driveway.

* * *

Rachel glanced up from her Science book at her Twitter feed open on her laptop. Her brow arched when she saw one of the newest tweets.

 _@SantanaLopez_ Why can't I just feel like that all the time? It was easier than this...I just want to get lost in my mind...

A question that had been bugging Rachel all day popped back into her head.

_Had Santana gotten high to deal with their break up?_

She wasn't blind. She'd seen her before lunch. Hands shoved deep into one of her brother's hoodies that she loved, head low, walking quickly. Santana didn't have her normal pile of books in her arms and Rachel had been a little taken aback at how different she looked.

How sad she'd looked.

She shook her head.

No. Santana had clearly made her choice. She'd consciously been with someone else and nothing she could do or say would or could rectify that. Yeah, so Rachel had done her fair share of cheating, but she'd never even _thought_ about it with Santana. Even when she was playing hard to get, Rachel really hadn't thought about relieving her sexual frustration elsewhere. They'd been together a full month before sleeping together. It was probably the longest Rachel had gone without sex and she hadn't minded. Well, sure it had been difficult because Santana, as much as she'd fucked up, was still unbelievably hot.

Rachel sighed and dropped her eyes, hearing her phone beep on her desk. She picked it up to find a surprising text.

_Hi. Just wanted to know how you're doing with everything? Quinn_

Rachel stared at her phone for a few minutes, not entirely sure how to react. Quinn was Santana's best friend. Surely she should be on her side? Why was she texting Rachel?

She thought back to Friday, when they'd gone for coffee. Had Quinn purposefully talked to her because she knew that Santana was busy fucking some other girl? Rachel's rage spiked again. She was Rachel Berry. People didn't fuck with her.

_How do you think I'm doing?! I'm hurt. I don't even know who to trust anymore. Did Santana put you up to this?_

Rachel exhaled deeply after realising that she'd been holding her breath all the while she'd been typing. She felt played. She felt taken advantage of. She felt like the biggest idiot in the world because she'd pictured a future with Santana. Like a long-term future. Maybe not forever, but she could see herself going to junior prom with her, or spending Thanksgiving and Christmas and Valentine's Day together.

Well, she _did_. Not anymore.

Her phone buzzed again.

_Santana doesn't own me. She doesn't control what I do. I asked because I'm not on her side. What she did was shitty and I thought we were kind of friends. I guess I was mistaken. Anyway, I get that you're hurting and I just hope that you can work through this and come out stronger._

Well, now she felt like shit. She should've known that about Quinn. As close as she and Santana were, Rachel knew that they were their own people and not dependent on a shared thought. The two had their own opinions, often vastly different, and didn't have to be joined at the hip every second of the day. But she knew they were close. And she knew both of them were incredibly loyal – she'd seen Santana when she'd found out about Quinn's pregnancy and the miscarriage. She'd also seen Quinn when Santana and Brittany had fought and the aftermath of that.

Another alert popped up on her Twitter feed.

 _@FiercePierce_ _Now that's what I call a good distraction :) Feelings all kinds of good. Thanks @FinnHud ;)_

She rolled her eyes. Brittany and her penchant for fucking idiotic meatheads was astounding. She knew that Brittany didn't even _like_ the guys she slept with.

Wait a second...

Rachel frowned as a ridiculous thought crossed her mind. She remembered how Brittany had looked at Santana that day in the choir room and how she'd found them in the hospital bathroom. She also remembered how happy Brittany had been at the game on Friday.

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at her phone. Then she burst out laughing.

“Yeah, right,” she muttered. “Santana cheated on me with Brittany. That'll be the fucking day.”

She picked up her phone and replied to Quinn, realising that she owed her an apology.

_I'm sorry. That was out of line. I'm just...I don't know. I feel blindsided and my trust in general has been shaken. I hate that I miss her._

Rachel felt a tear run down her cheek. She hadn't even realised that they'd gathered in her eyes. Until she'd typed those words, she hadn't known how true they were. She did miss Santana. She missed seeing her, she missed holding her hand, she missed joking around with her, she missed their heated arguments that always led to seriously hot making out or, of late, seriously hot make up sex.

She sighed and put her phone back on her desk after sending the message to Quinn.

She may miss Santana, but that didn't stop her from hating her for breaking her trust and her heart.

* * *

“Afroboy!”

Blaine spun around, his eyes looking around suspiciously. “How do you know my super secret spy code name?”

Brittany rolled her eyes. “One too many blunts this morning?”

“What's too many than one?”

_And people wonder why stoners are stupid._

“Just quit your yapping and follow me,” Brittany snapped, glancing around. It was early enough that her talking to Blaine wasn't noticeable enough to cause mutterings around the school.

“Are we going to the moon?” Blaine asked excitedly.

“What? No, don't be an idiot. Just keep quiet and follow me.”

She sighed in frustration and made her way to the couch that she knew the stoners frequented. A few of them were lounging around and their eyes widened when they saw Brittany approaching them. She arched an eyebrow and flicked a wrist for them to scatter. It took a lot longer than what she was used to, but soon she and Blaine were alone.

“Here's what I need you to do,” Brittany began, but Blaine cut her off before she could continue.

“Is this a mission?” he asked excitedly.

“Uh, sure.” Brittany frowned. This guy had definitely smoked one too many. “Look, Santana's been pretty sad and you're her friend, right?”

Blaine nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay, so your, uh...mission is to make sure she stays happy. I don’t care how you do it. Just…just keep her smiling. Got it?”

She hated how her heart was hammering uncontrollably.

“Sure, Lady Cheerio. Santana’s pretty when she smiles.”

_You can say that again._

What? No! Fuck.

“You know that I’m like your boss or whatever, right? Which means that you can’t tell her that I asked you to do this.”

Blaine nodded. “It’s a mission. I mean, I’m a little out of practice. The great plummet of the inflatable ball market kinda botched my last mission and I haven’t really felt the drive to take on another mission. But this… I can do this.”

He gave her a grin and Brittany just arched her eyebrow at him.

“Whatever, Afroboy. As far as anyone in this school is concerned, you and I have never spoken.”

Blaine touched his nose and winked. Brittany huffed and walked back across the football field quickly. She spotted Rachel and jogged after her.

“Slow that fat ass down, Berry,” she called.

“What?” Rachel snapped.

Brittany narrowed her eyes. “I don’t care if you crawled out from underneath your bed this morning, I haven’t done anything to earn that kind of tone before the first bell.”

_The hell you haven’t,_

Fucking stupid voice.

Rachel’s eyes softened. “Sorry, B. This…it’s just harder than I thought it would be. I’m still angry, so fucking mad, but I…” Her voice trailed off and Brittany leaned in closer.

“Sorry, I dropped Mumble 101 back in middle school,” she teased.

“I miss her,” Rachel hissed, spinning on her heel and stalking inside the school.

Brittany sighed and followed, sensing that Rachel was definitely on her own mission. She hardly wanted to make things worse. Yesterday she’d been sorta fine, which meant that something had probably happened sometime last night or that morning.

Brittany rounded a corner and her shoulder clipped someone else’s throwing her slightly off balance.

“Watch it, fucktard!” she snapped, drawing herself up to her full height.

Dark eyes behind cute black frames just glared back.

“Apologies, Your Highness,” Santana snapped back. “I wasn’t aware you owned the entire fucking school.”

Brittany felt the familiar stirrings of a challenge. She smirked. “You didn’t get the memo, Lopez? I’ll make sure to draw it in Magic Marker for you.”

Santana just shook her head. “Disillusioned airhead,” she heard Santana mutter as she turned away.

“What did you fucking call me?” Brittany grabbed her arm tightly and jerked her against the lockers.

The sound reverberated down the hall and those present started crowding around to witness what they probably hoped would be the Brittany/Santana Smackdown Revisited.

“Allow me to enunciate so that your pea-sized brain can compute this,” Santana said clearly, disdain and sarcasm dripping from her tone. “You are a disillusioned airhead. You _still_ have this warped sense of how the world works and-“

“Oh, because everything should work according to the Lopez Guide to the World, right?” Brittany cut in hotly, stepping closer to her, her anger spiking. “Who’s the disillusioned one, Lezpez, huh? You couldn’t even hold onto Rachel for more than a few weeks.”

_Uh oh._

She knew as soon as she’d said the words that she’d made a big mistake.

Santana’s hands were on her chest and Brittany felt herself being pushed across the corridor and clenched her jaw as her back slammed against the lockers opposite Santana. She was quickly in front of her, her fist connecting the locker _right_ next to Brittany’s face.

“Let’s not forget why that happened, shall we, _Britt_?” Her voice was low, which Brittany was semi-thankful for. No one else could hear was they were saying unless they were standing right next to them and no one was about to get within ten feet of the two girls. “You know, you’re riding coattails right now. I could be a selfish bitch and tell Rachel _who_ I-“

“Why?” Brittany breathed, but her gaze was hard. “What purpose would that serve?”

“Other than letting your best friend know what a lying, cheating slut you are? Oh, not much else, actually.” Santana stepped back and took a deep breath. “But I’m done being a coward. I fucked up. I accept that. And sooner or later, you’ll have to own up to what you did.”

Santana just shook her head and turned away from Brittany.

_Crap! I can’t let her walk away! It’ll look like she’s won._

She glanced around and saw Ms. S coming over.

_Perfect._

She pushed herself off the lockers and shoved Santana hard, sending them both sprawling to the ground.

“Oh, you did _not_ just fucking do that!” Santana spat, getting up a lot quicker than Brittany had anticipated and reached down to grab her high pony.

She winced and stumbled to her feet, not before sending an open-handed slap across Santana’s face. The sound silenced any and all chatter around them and the two girls just stared at each other.

_Oooooh, shit._

“Bitch!” Santana yelled, yanking her by the hair into the lockers again.

“Hey, hey! Break it up!”

_Thank God. Took you fucking long enough!_

“Why is it that it’s always you two?” Ms. S shouted, pushing Santana away from Brittany.

“She started it!” Santana retorted.

“You didn’t exactly walk away now did you, Santana?” Ms. S replied. “Go to my office now. _Now_ , Santana,” she added firmly when Santana hesitated. She scowled and stalked off, the crowd widely making a path for them.

“And as for you,” Ms. S said, turning back to Brittany. “I’ll let your coach deal with you.”

“Whatever,” Brittany replied, redoing her pony. Coach Em was hardly gonna reprimand her for taking a stand.

Right?

Wrong.

“Pierce, are you growing mushrooms in that head of yours?” Coach Em snapped, pacing behind her desk. “You’re supposed to be playing nice with those stupid Glee Club losers, yet you take it upon yourself to deliberately antagonise them in any way possible. _Especially_ that Lopez girl!”

“What was I supposed to do, Coach?” Brittany replied with a frown. “Am I expected to just let her walk all over me and show to the school that the Cheerios are just pushovers?”

Coach Em sighed in exasperation. “Look, this needs to be contained. This better not blow up in our faces because you can’t control yourself.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Brittany asked nervously, doing her best not to let it show in her voice.

“It means, Pierce, that you need to sort out this rage or whatever that you have. You can’t go flying off the handle. Leave it for your bedroom antics and captaining the Cheerios. Outside of those activities, you are the picture-perfect Head Cheerio. Got it?”

Brittany resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Picture-perfect Head Cheerio. Seriously?

“Got it, Coach,” she eventually muttered.

“Good. Get out.”

Brittany closed the door demurely when all she wanted to do was slam it.

“Britt.”

She glanced up and saw Rachel approaching her quickly.

“What the fuck happened?” she asked with furrowed brows.

“Just…the usual. It was stupid in hindsight.” Brittany groaned in frustration. “She just fucking pushes all my buttons. Why can’t she be normal and just leave us alone?”

Rachel sighed. “Look, we can’t change what happened. But this…whatever between you and Santana has got to stop otherwise the shit’s gonna hit the fan for all of us. Meet in the choir room at lunch, okay?”

“Why?”

“Just do it. You don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

“Jesus, I thought I was Head Cheerio,” Brittany muttered. “Now there are fifty people telling me what I _have_ to do.”

“It’s important, Britt.”

Brittany looked at her. Rachel was looking decidedly stressed out herself.

“Fine,” she agreed eventually. “I’m going to the locker room. I gotta just…walk or something.”

Rachel nodded and squeezed her arm in comfort before walking away. Brittany sighed and headed for the locker room. Things had completely spiralled out of control that morning. She hadn’t wanted things to get so…crazy.

“Back for more?”

Brittany stopped suddenly and turned to see Santana looking at her reflection in the mirror. She rolled her eyes.

_Seriously? I can’t catch a fucking break, can I?_

Santana’s eyes moved from her to examining the side of her face. Brittany inwardly grimaced as she remembered slapping her.

“Santana,” she began.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Santana interjected firmly. “If we never have to exchange words again, I’ll be happy. I want absolutely nothing to do with you, Brittany.”

“Fine, whatever. I just wanted to apologise.”

* * *

Santana met her eyes again and stared incredulously. After everything, she couldn’t actually be seriously.

“You got a list hidden somewhere in there?” she quipped. “Cos I can think of a few things to add to it.”

She saw Brittany shift uncomfortably and let her do so for a few seconds. Hell, after what she’d been through at Brittany’s hand, she enjoyed seeing her squirm a little.

“Spit it out, Wonder Barbie. I don’t have all day.”

“Okay, look. What happened this morning…I…I was out of line. I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

“Ya think?”

“I just… You were walking away and people were gonna think that you’d won or something and I couldn’t-“

“Hold up.” Santana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You slapped me because of your _reputation_?”

“I, uh…yeah, I guess,” she finally mumbled.

“This is fucking priceless,” Santana muttered, turning around and leaning against the sink so that she was facing Brittany. “Honestly, what is wrong with you? I know you’re not _actually_ that stupid, so please enlighten me as to why you seem to have these bouts of supreme idiocy?”

“Because I’m a Cheerio, okay?” Brittany burst out. “I’m a Cheerio.”

Santana waited for more, but it didn’t come. “And?” she prompted.

“And that’s it.” Brittany looked down at the floor, her shoe making patterns. “That’s all I am.”

Santana frowned. “That’s bullshit, Brittany. And it’s a fucking lame ass excuse for what you did.”

“I know, okay! God, I feel bad. I’m here apologising, aren’t I?”

Santana arched a brow. “Still waiting for the apology part.”

Brittany took a breath. “I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the floor really appreciated that.”

She lifted her head and Santana hated how her skin prickled automatically as those crystal blue eyes met hers. She hated how, after everything, Brittany still had some inexplicable effect on her body. She ignored it.

“I’m sorry, Santana. The slap was uncalled for. I saw Ms. Sylvester coming so I figured she’d stop us soon. Obviously, I’d expected her to get there a lot sooner than she actually did.”

“God, the way your reasoning works absolutely astounds me,” Santana muttered, running a hand through her hair and shaking her head.

“Yeah, well, you’re not the first person to tell me that either.”

“Fine. I _guess_ I can accept your apology for slapping me. But what about everything else?”

“Um, like what?” Brittany asked blankly.

Santana stared at her in disbelief. Well, semi-disbelief. Once again, she was actually astounded at how completely self-involved Brittany Pierce was.

“Unbelievable,” she said to herself.

“What?” Brittany queried.

“Nothing. You know what, I guess I should take what I can get, seeing as how you’re just completely fucking clueless.”

Brittany looked genuinely hurt, but Santana didn’t care. She walked past Brittany, but Brittany caught her arm.

“Wait.”

“What? The last time you did this didn’t end well for either of us, so how about you let me go and leave things as they are.”

Brittany didn’t drop her arm. “You didn’t deserve that slap, Santana. I am sorry that I did it. I’d like to offer you a freebie.”

“A freebie?” Santana tried really not to see the dirty side of that. “Can’t say that’s the best idea you’ve had, Barbie.”

Brittany’s eyes went wide. “Fuck! No! That’s not what I meant. Jesus.” She swallowed. “I meant a free slap. Cos, you know, I slapped you unnecessarily.”

“So, you’re offering me a free slap?”

Brittany nodded, finally releasing her arm.

“I feel like I’m on _How I Met Your Mother_ ,” Santana mumbled.

“I like that show,” Brittany said quietly.

_This is a twilight zone or something. This has got to be one of the most bizarre exchanges we’ve had and we’ve had way too many._

Brittany suddenly stepped back and closed her eyes. “Whenever you’re ready, okay?”

Santana just stared at her. Brittany had actually been serious? Her left hand twitched. She really, _really_ wanted to. Instead, she turned and walked out of the locker room.

* * *

Santana frowned again as she reread the text message that she’d received during second period from Quinn.

_Choir room at lunch – no arguments._

“This better be fucking good, Fabray,” she muttered to herself as she headed for the choir room.

Things had been strained between them since Quinn had bitched her out the previous day in the locker room. Santana wasn’t a baby. She didn’t need a fucking babysitter. She needed a best friend.

She rounded the last corner and eventually lifted her head as she neared the choir room, but she stopped dead in her tracks. Rachel was walking towards her. Rachel saw her and also stopped, looking uncomfortable. Santana’s heart started hurting as she was suddenly reminded of what she’d done, of how she’d hurt Rachel, of how amazing she had been during their entire relationship.

As memories flew through her head unbound, Santana had to break their stare and lean against the wall next to her, sinking to the floor.

_I can’t do this. I can’t be in Glee and see how much I’ve hurt her every single day. I just…I can’t. She deserves more. She doesn’t deserve to see me and be reminded of how she’d become a better person only to have it thrown back in her face._

Santana buried her face against her knees. She was actually breaking down in the fucking hallway of her high school.

_Way to keep control, Lopez._

She didn’t care. Most people were in the cafeteria anyway.

“Um, Santana?”

She just shook her head and ignored Rachel.

“Santana, just…”

“Why are you even talking to me?” Santana blurted out. “You should hate me.”

“You’re definitely not my favourite person right now, make no mistake,” Rachel retorted. “But we’re waiting for you in the choir room.”

Santana lifted her head and squinted through her foggy glasses. “We?”

“Just…get up off the fucking floor, okay?” She saw the shape of Rachel move away.

It took her about five minutes to get over her crying fit and wipe her eyes so that she could actually see. She took a deep breath before walking the few steps into the choir room. As soon as she stepped inside, however, she wished she’d just stayed at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come join the Brittana server! We talk nonsense mostly - but also about Brittana! :) https://discord.gg/WUpexmr


	21. Chapter 21

Santana rubbed her eyes of the residual tears because she was pretty sure that they had fogged up her glasses. When she opened them again, she realised that it wasn’t a dream. She was sitting in her version of a nightmare.

Quinn moved towards her and she automatically took a step back. What the hell was her supposed best friend thinking? Her eyes flitted to where Rachel and Brittany stood, looking just as uncomfortable as she felt.

“What the hell, Fabray?” she snapped, not sure where her surge of energy to actually _be_ angry had come from.

“Santana, look, you need to-“

“I don’t need to do shit! Why would you do this? They obviously don’t want to be here! Why make an already crappy situation even worse by trying to play the goddamn good Samaritan all the time?”

She knew she was being mean, but she couldn’t control her emotions. They were just all over the place.

“Santana.”

She looked at Rachel, who was also stepping forward. It was reflex – she took a step back. She felt like Rachel should want to hit her and she’d had enough slaps and punches from a certain blonde Cheerio to last her a lifetime.

“Santana, I’m not going to do anything,” Rachel said quietly. “Look, shit is messed up right now, but we have Sectionals next week and we need-“

“Glee Club?” Santana interrupted in disbelief. “You called me here about _Glee Club_?”

“You love Glee Club,” Quinn murmured.

“I do. But I’m also not an idiot. I’m the one that fucked everything up so the solution is simple.”

Quinn’s eyes widened as she realised what she was going to do. “No, Santana-“

“I’m quitting. Done deal. I’m just… I’m bad news for you three in that club and I’m not about to make things even worse when Sectionals are so close.”

She turned around and walked quickly out of the choir room.

* * *

“ _Mija_?”

Carmen peeked around her daughter’s bedroom door and sighed when she saw the familiar sight of Santana curled up on her bed in the dark. It hadn’t been familiar before the weekend.

“Santana, I’m really worried about you,” she murmured, slipping inside of her bedroom. She wasn’t used to being so out of the loop with Santana.

“You shouldn’t be,” came a muffled mutter. “I’m just a horrible person. You shouldn’t worry about me. I just hurt people and make mistakes.”

What on earth happened to turn my vibrant, passionate daughter into this shell of herself?

As Carmen approached the bed, she saw Santana’s phone light up from the nightstand. It was a text from Quinn. Carmen saw fifteen messages and six missed calls. She was glad that Santana’s friends seemed to be worried too.

“Please, talk to me, Santana,” Carmen begged, kneeling next to her bed. “I can’t stand seeing you so sad. It hurts me that I can’t do anything.”

“You shouldn’t!” Santana suddenly sat up, her eyes narrowed in anger. “Don’t you get it? I’m toxic. I’m bad news. I’m the worst fucking person in the history of the world. You _shouldn’t_ care about me because I’ll probably just disappoint you too.”

Wow.

“Santana Lopez, now you listen to me,” Carmen said sharply, grabbing her firmly fisted hands and holding on tightly. “No matter what you do, no matter who you hurt for whatever reason, no matter how many times you _think_ you disappoint me or anyone, I will _always_ love you and I will always be here for you. That’s what being your mother means. And right now, I’m done standing on the sidelines while I watch my Santana slowly disappear.”

“ _Mami_.”

It was one word and it was the only word that Carmen needed to hear. In three seconds, she was on the bed, pulling her baby girl into her arms. Santana’s arms went around her waist and she clung to her, sobbing violently. In Santana’s sixteen years of existence, Carmen had never seen her break down like this. She was hurting really badly and Carmen had to try really hard not to cry with her. When her daughter hurt, she hurt. And Santana sounded heartbroken.

“ _Yo estoy aquí, mi amor._ I’m not going anywhere, not ever. I promise. _Bueno_?” She stroked her hair and started rocking Santana like she used to do when she was still small enough to be picked up. Granted, none of those times had Santana been weeping into her chest like she’d lost everything.

“ _Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento_ ,” Santana mumbled through her heart-wrenching sobs.

“Oh, Santana, there’s nothing to be sorry for. Everything can be fixed, _mi amor_.”

“It can’t!” she shouted into her chest. “It can’t be fixed! I broke everything!”

Carmen swallowed and continued holding Santana tightly to her, eventually humming a soft lullaby as she tried to sort her own thoughts out. Santana had always been strong-willed. She’d known from an early age what she believed to be right and wrong and she hated making mistakes. That wasn’t to say that she was a perfectionist because she definitely wasn’t. Quinn was the one to hold that title in their friendship. Santana had a strong conviction of her actions and she didn’t do anything without thinking about it.

That particular quality had Carmen extremely worried about what Santana had done, or had claimed to have done. She seldom acted without considering the repercussions. Even the fight that had got her suspended had been justified in Santana’s eyes and, to an extent, Carmen’s too. Her daughter had put up with a lot of bullying and Carmen _hated_ it, but Santana refused to do or say anything because she was adamant about protecting her friends. Carmen had never felt prouder of her.

What had Santana done that had gone against her morals and caused her to apparently do something that made her hate herself so much? She knew that Santana had been the one to err because if she was on the receiving end of the hurt, no way would she be curled up against her, crying her heart out. She’d be out there teaching someone a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

“ _No me odies_ ,” Santana suddenly whispered, rubbing her face against Carmen’s shoulder and fisting her shirt at the back where she still held onto her tightly.

“Never,” Carmen whispered, placing a firm kiss on her daughter’s forehead. “I love you. _Siempre_.”

* * *

Santana groggily woke up before her alarm the following morning and suddenly realised that she wasn’t alone in her bed. Her mom had an arm wrapped tightly around her waist from where she lay behind her and Fernando was laying on his back next to her. She looked down and saw that he still held her hand tightly.

A new wave of tears threatened to wash over her, but she was _so_ tired of crying. Yeah, sure, this time it was love and appreciation that overwhelmed her, but she felt like she couldn’t function anymore and it was just so…not her.

Fernando was the quietest of the Lopez boys and, being only three years older than Santana, they were very close. She still loved Miguel and Angelo to death, but she had a special relationship with Ferdie. He never once judged her for coming out in her freshman year. Even though he was a senior and a big shot on the football team, he protected and respected his little sister through everything. Santana would always have an extra special place for him in her heart because of his unwavering support at school. He’d been the most against her decision to approach the jocks and Cheerios and demand to be their only target. She knew that he’d tried talking to his teammates, but they wouldn’t budge. Not once had her brother ever slushied her or any of her friends.

Her mom had held her until she’d fallen asleep, completely exhausted from her soul baring cry. She didn’t hold anything in. She just let everything out and let her mom hold her and make everything better. Ferdie had walked past her room to go to his own and, without saying or hearing anything, walked in and lay next to Santana. He’d been there when she’d woken up at around midnight. She’d just stayed curled up against her mom as she listened to the two of them talk quietly.

It was then that she realised how much she was scaring her family with her unusual behaviour. As goofy as the Lopez clan were, they were very close and fiercely protective of each other. Santana had been so wrapped up in her own head that she hadn’t realised what her sudden change in behaviour had done to her family. They were _scared_ and that killed Santana. She’d unwittingly drawn them all into her web of deceit and betrayal and hurt because she’d been so self-involved.

She sighed and the movement caused her mom to stir. Santana burrowed back into her and felt the now familiar swell of emotion in her chest as her mom tightened her hold on her.

How did I manage to get the most amazing family in the world? I’m the one that fucks up, but here they are, being so incredibly supportive and loving. You need to make this right, Lopez. You need to come clean.

The thought terrified her. Coming out didn’t even come close to the fear she felt at divulging her sins to her family. They thought the world of her – she knew that. She was the baby, but they all thought the sun shined out of her ass. She was smart, talented and beautiful. Triple threat.

Add heartbreaker to that list.

“Santa?”

Santana lifted her head and saw Angelo stretching from his position on her desk chair.

He slept here too? Holy crap, I’m gonna fucking cry again.

“You okay, hermana?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

“No,” Santana replied honestly. Her voice cracked from tiredness and all the crying she’d done. “I’m not.”

“Well, you know we’re here to help you get back to okay,” he murmured, giving her the teddy bear look that she loved.

Angelo was seven when Santana was born and he took his big brother role very seriously. He’d gone through a bit of a podgy phase during middle school and Santana had called him her teddy bear because he was slightly bigger and she’d loved being held by him. He was her teddy bear. He would sometimes give her a look and she’d know, in that instant, that he would take a bullet for her.

“Te amo, Angelo,” Santana choked out.

The sound made Carmen sit up immediately. The arm around her waist lifted to brush Santana’s hair from her face. She cradled her cheek in her hand.

“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly.

Ferdie squeezed her hand and she turned to see him looking her with an encouraging smile on his face.

She took a deep and very shaky breath. “Exhausted. I guess kind of in a good way. I just… I’m not in a good space right now. I…” Her shoulders slumped as she chickened out.

“Hermana, how about we have a family night tonight?” Ferdie suggested quietly. “No one else, just the six of us. If you want to talk to us, then you can. You know we love you no matter what and we’ll be there to listen. Just listen.”

Santana just nodded because she sure as hell didn’t trust herself to speak. Her throat felt so very tight as she tried so hard not to cry again. They were so supportive and so loving, but they didn’t even know what she’d done. And what she’d done was terrible. She was petrified that once she told them about cheating on Rachel that they would hate her.

Loyalty was big with the Lopez family. Like, really big. Everything that Santana had learned as a child had been based on that value. And here she was, going against what was the most important thing in the world. What if they were disappointed? What if they just looked at her and didn’t say anything?

Or worse…What if they hated her?

“Mija. Santana, calm down. Please, mi amor, just breathe.”

It was her mom’s voice. Santana suddenly realised that she was breathing really quickly and couldn’t seem to relax.

“She’s having a panic attack,” Carmen said quickly, moving away from her and gently letting her lay down on her back.

Santana felt like she had lost control of her body. Her breathing was picking up and her fists were clenched tightly. Her body was coiled into a stiff line and she just wanted to cry at how helpless she felt. Her breathing was starting to hurt her chest.

“Mami, what…? We have to do something!” Angelo said in a scared voice.

“Angelo, we need to be calm. Santana needs to feel that we are calm and that we are all here for her, no matter what.”

“But look at her! Her body is completely tight!”

“Mijo, I know what I’m doing, okay? We can’t restrain her. Touching isn’t advised, even if the intention is just to relax her.”

Santana felt someone rest his hand over her fist and her eyes saw Ferdie sit on the edge where he’d been sleeping. She felt tears of frustration streaming out of her eyes.

“Santana, my love, you don’t have to be scared. I promise you, I promise, that whatever you tell us, I will love you no less. Nothing that you say or do with diminish the overwhelming love that I have for you and for my boys too. Okay? I understand that you’re worried and scared and you hate yourself for whatever it was that happened and it’s fine that you’re hurt and angry about it.”

Santana just focused on her mother’s calm, soothing voice. Everything else was forgotten.

“Your brothers aren’t going to let you go that easily, either,” Ferdie added. Santana managed to turn her head slightly. “You’re our hermana menor and it will always be that way. You know we love you and you love us despite all the crazy shit we do and how we drive you crazy. Well, how Angelo and Miguel drive you crazy.”

Santana felt the urge to laugh and her chest lightened immediately. She felt her quick breaths starting to slow down.

“Ugh, I remember when Miguel got his licence,” Carmen said with a teasing groan. “I told your father that he shouldn’t have been driving the Lexus.”

Angelo chuckled. “Did we ever find that front tyre?”

“Yeah, it ended up four houses down.”

Santana suddenly laughed and three pairs of dark brown eyes looked down at her with relief. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position with some help from Ferdie.

“You told him that the next car he drove was going to be one that he bought himself,” she said, still a little wheezy.

Carmen sat next to her and smiled. “Welcome back.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be,” her mother replied simply. “Sometimes our bodies have a strange way of reacting to how we’re feeling. You and Ferdie are very similar. You like to internalise things, thinking that you’re strong enough to deal with it on your own.” She took Santana’s right hand, her left still covered by Ferdie’s. “I understand that about you two and I let you work things out by yourselves. There are times, though, when you need to realise that your family is here for you and that we will not judge you when you make a mistake.”

“What if the mistake is a really bad one?” Santana whispered, looking down at her jeans. She was still wearing them from the previous day.

“Regardless of how big or small your mistake may be, Santana, we’re still going to love you and be there for you as you work through the consequences.”

“It’s hard.” Santana squeezed her eyes closed.

“Duh,” Angelo said in that know-all attitude that Santana usually hated, but now felt comforted by. “It wouldn’t be life if it was easy. And you wouldn’t learn anything if you didn’t feel really shit about it. That tells me that even though you made a mistake, you regret it and you do want to make things better, but you just don’t know how.”

He looked at Carmen and then back to the bed, where Santana and Ferdie were giving him matching looks of disbelief.

“What? I know stuff.”

“I agree with Angelo,” Carmen said with an appreciative smile in his direction. “And we’ll discuss it more tonight, all right, mija?”

Santana nodded and took a slow, deep breath to calm her still racing heart.

“You okay to head to the big house?” Ferdie asked softly.

Santana had to smile at the Lopez nickname for McKinley. The sense of familiarity with the three people in her room, as difficult as things were, made her feel infinitely better.

She just had to hang onto that feeling and make it through the day.

* * *

Brittany sighed impatiently and allowed herself to be pulled into the choir room. She was spending far too much in this room outside of regular Glee practices.

“Have you heard anything?” Rachel asked Quinn, who was already sitting down.

Brittany twisted her wrist out of Rachel’s grasp and flopped onto a chair. Why did she have to be there for a Santana intervention? Or whatever the hell they were calling it.

“No, she didn’t answer any of my calls or texts,” Quinn replied, worryingly chewing her bottom lip. “I even went over to her house, but no one answered the door.”

Rachel folded her arms and furrowed her brows. “I knew that things were…hard, but I never expected her to quit Glee to try and make things easier for me,” she murmured.

Not just you, Berry.

Brittany was all too aware of Santana’s double meaning when she’d announced her departure from Glee the previous day. She was trying to make things easier for all of them. Obviously, something had gone down between her and Queen Quinn and well…her issues with Santana would remain between the two of them because no way was she ever letting Rachel find out.

“Morning, ladies,” Ms. Sylvester greeted, walking into the room. “Did you three book the room? I don’t recall seeing anything on the roster.”

“Uh, no, Ms. S. This is more a…search and rescue meeting,” Quinn replied.

Ms. S frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Quinn and Rachel looked at each other nervously and Brittany rolled her eyes.

“Santana quit,” she stated simply.

“I’m sorry?” Ms. S queried, her brows furrowing.

“Santana quit,” Brittany repeated. “You know, left Glee, departed, left the building in homage to Elvis. Whatever, I don’t speak Gleek.”

“Jesus, Britt! This is actually quite serious,” Rachel snapped.

“Why?” She couldn’t fathom why Rachel would be fighting to keep her ex around her more when the little time they did spend in the same room was riddled with tension.

“Because Sectionals is in two weeks and Santana is our golden girl,” Ms. S murmured.

“Oh, wow, thanks, Ms. S,” Quinn scoffed.

“You know what I mean, Quinn. You’re our frontrunner, but Santana holds the show together. She’s the glue when you’re centre stage.”

“Yeah.” Quinn sounded defeated.

“Santana is our magic,” Ms. S said for Brittany and Rachel’s benefit. “She’s like the cheerleader for New Directions. Anything that may go wrong, Santana deals with it and everyone’s happy. When it comes to competitions, Santana guarantees that we’re at our best.”

“So why not just give her solos and let her take over the show?” Brittany asked.

“Because she doesn’t want the spotlight,” Quinn replied, sending a small glare her way. “She never has. She knows that she’s talented. Heck, anyone with ears knows that she’s talented, but she only sings because she enjoys it so much and because New Directions is where she can be accepted for who she is. It’s her home away from home. And she appreciates that.”

“We need her for Mad World, Ms. S,” Rachel said earnestly. “I don’t know much about show choir and how the competitions work, but if we do that song, I just know we’ll win.”

Ms. S nodded and sighed. “I’m not sure how much sway I’ll have with her, though, ladies.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said, “I know that this would be asking a lot, but-“

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Rachel cut in. She let out a quick breath. “I’ll talk to her.”

Say what?

“Rach, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Brittany ventured. “I mean, she-“

“Brittany, I believe that it’s Rachel’s decision to make. You hardly have any ground to stand on when it comes to Santana.”

What the fuck?? Damage control!!

“Just because they can’t seem to keep their hands off each other whenever they cross paths doesn’t mean that Brittany should just be left out of the loop,” Rachel replied.

Brittany frowned. Huh? Did I hear that wrong?

Quinn looked just as perplexed.

Hang on, does that mean that Rach doesn’t know it was me? Obviously, Queen Quinn does and I will cut a bitch for almost outing me.

Her conscience snickered at the unintentional play on words.

“Um, Rachel, what exactly are you referring to?” Quinn asked carefully.

Yes, please tell us. Cos if you knew, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be talking to me.

“Britt and Santana fighting every time they’re in proximity,” Rachel replied. She raised an eyebrow. “Why? What else would I be referring to?”

“No, that’s what I thought,” Quinn replied smoothly. “I can never keep up with the crap that those two get up to so I just wanted to make sure.”

Nicely done. Hang on-

“Hey, I’m sitting right here,” Brittany protested.

“She’s hardly wrong, B,” Rachel commented.

Brittany just shook her head and inspected her nails. “So, is this intervention or whatever done?”

Quinn rolled her eyes.

“Thank you for doing this, Rachel,” Ms. S said genuinely. “I know that something has obviously happened, and you stepping out of your comfort zone means a lot to me and to New Directions. I’m pretty sure you guys have noticed that Santana means a lot to the club.”

Rachel nodded and Brittany just raised her eyebrows.

This is retarded. I feel guilty enough, okay? I don’t need to sit around and listen to how amazing Santana Lopez is.

“Quinn, do you know what her first period is this morning?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, we have English Lit with Mr. Perry. She’ll probably be in homeroom, though.”

“Okay, I’ll head over there and see if I can convince her to come back,” Rachel said quietly.

Brittany felt a twist in her gut. Rachel looked freaked out. She was scared and hurt and angry and the confusing emotions didn’t help her nerves.

“You’ll be fine, Rach,” she offered quietly.

Rachel nodded, seemingly encouraged with her vote of confidence, and walked out of the choir room.

“I’ll leave you ladies to it, then.” Ms. S stepped into her office and closed the door.

Brittany was surprised that Quinn actually waited a full five seconds before blowing up at her.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed. “You are just as responsible for this mess as Santana, yet you’re lying to your best friend and letting my best friend take the fall completely! What kind of person does that, Brittany?”

Brittany stood up, thankful for her height. She glared down at Quinn. “I don’t have to answer to you, Queen Quinn.” She spun on her heel and stalked towards the door.

“Maybe not today, but one day you will have to accept responsibility for what you did.”

Her walking slowed as she heard Quinn’s final words, but she just held her head high and continued out of the room.

* * *

Rachel tried to control her breathing as she stood outside the door of Santana’s homeroom. She knew that she was inside; she’d taken a fleeting look inside to check.

You can do this. Just pretend that she’s another person. Forget your history. Forget everything that happened. You’re just talking to another student.

It was the only way that she felt like she was going to survive whatever was about to happen.

Come on, Berry. Just do it. Get it over with.

She took a final deep breath and stepped inside the classroom. Santana was hunched over her books, the hood of her brother’s hoodie virtually obscuring her face.

But Rachel knew it was her.

“Hey.”

Okay, good. Voice was good. Not shaky, not murderous. So far, so good. Then Santana looked up.

Rachel couldn’t contain the gasp of surprise as how haggard, she supposed was the best word, Santana looked. Exhausted didn’t even cover it. She looked like she’d been to hell.

Santana’s eyes widened slightly behind her glasses before she dropped her head again. Rachel could see how white her knuckles became as she gripped the pencil in her hand tightly. Part of her wanted to reach out and soothe those knuckles, and she hated herself for that.

So much for treating her like any other student.

It had been a pointless plan. She couldn’t forget Santana. She couldn’t forget the amazing weeks they’d had together and she definitely couldn’t forget Santana showing up at house on Saturday morning and breaking her heart.

She couldn’t and she wouldn’t.

Rachel cleared her throat and walked right up to Santana’s desk.

“I know things are…weird right now, but I’m here on behalf of the Glee Club,” she began.

Santana looked up, her expression confused.

“You have to come back. We need you to…do the thing that you do,” Rachel finished lamely and frowned at herself.

“What thing?” Her voice was soft.

“Ms. S says that you’re, like, magic or something. Look, Quinn and I have an idea for a song that we think you’d sound amazing on. So, please, come back and just hear our idea? Maybe just…I dunno. Just give it a chance. You love Glee. You…you didn’t have to quit because of me.”

“I…”

Santana dropped her head, anything she wanted to say lost with her apparent courage. Rachel was pretty sure that nothing that she said would quell the flame that burned in her chest.

“I’ll be there,” Santana eventually said quietly.

“Cool,” Rachel said, turning around immediately.

“Why did you come?” Santana asked suddenly. “I mean, why you? Why not Quinn or Ms. S?”

Rachel sighed and turned around. “Because this is hard for both of us and I enjoy Glee Club enough to stay there even if you’re there too. But it’s going to be awkward for everyone if we continue stepping on eggshells around each other. Make no mistake, Santana, you are in no way forgiven. I am still so fucking hurt and angry and that won’t go away overnight.” She took a breath. “But, for the sake of everyone around us, we should at least attempt being civil.”

Santana just nodded shortly. “Okay. Um, after school in the choir room?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll, um, I’ll see you guys there.”

Rachel didn’t say anything and turned around again, heading for the door. Once outside, she leaned against the wall and took deep breaths. If she’d continued walking instead of stopping, she wouldn’t have heard Santana whisper to the empty classroom. Even with students milling about, Rachel could pick it up, almost like she was meant to hear it.

“I miss you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brittana server, you ask? Why, yes. Here ya go: https://discord.gg/WUpexmr


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naya... :(

Brittany’s brow was in a permanent frown as she headed to the choir room after school. She’d had to forego Cheerios practice, which didn’t go down too well with Coach Em.

_This stupid Glee shit is ruining my life._

Yeah, she enjoyed the dancing because she rarely got to let loose like that with the Cheerios. But that was it. The singing was okay, but not mind-blowing. Well, she guessed that-

She slowed her walking as she neared the choir room. Someone was playing the piano and singing softly. She didn’t have to listen very long to know who the voice belonged to. Brittany peeked in. Santana had her back to her and the room was empty. She was playing a soft melody and the lyrics were familiar, but Brittany couldn’t place them. She did hear the pain in Santana’s voice very clearly, though.

_"It's you, it's you, it's all for you. Everything I do, I tell you all the time. heaven is a place on earth with you. Tell me all the things you want to do. I heard that you like the bad girls. Honey, is that true?"_

Brittany knew that she probably shouldn’t be intruding on Santana’s private moment, but as with most things when it came to Santana, her logic seemed to desert her. Santana stood up from the piano and walked to the chairs, sitting in one and staring at the ground. Brittany took a breath and walked inside, hoping it didn’t seem as though she had been lurking right outside the door.

_She’s staring at the ground. You’re safe._

Would the awkwardness ever dissipate? She got that Santana felt guilty, but Brittany didn’t. Yeah, Rachel was her best friend, but she hadn’t cheated on her. It was just sex.

_Keep telling yourself that, Blondie._

Okay, seriously! The annoying know-it-all voice was really starting piss her off. She was done with whatever _thing_ she’d had for Santana. It was over. She’d dealt with it. She was straight.

_As the letter ‘g’. Which stands for GAY!_

Brittany set her jaw and sat down in a chair far from Santana, who still hadn’t noticed her. She was _not_ gay. It was impossible. She would know if she was. She’d had sex with enough guys to prove that she enjoyed their company. She’d know by now if she didn’t like sex with them.

_Yeah, cos Santana had nothing whatsoever to do with the best orgasms you’ve ever had._

Fuck.

She vigorously shook her head and glanced sideways at the girl she couldn’t get out of her head, no matter how hard she tried.

_And you much prefer being drunk when you have sex with a guy._

Yeah, well, alcohol made her horny.

_You always have the lights off._

Who didn’t like the lights off during sex?

_It was broad daylight when you let Santana fuck you._

Brittany swallowed. The stupid voice had a goddamn point. Okay, so if she acknowledged that being with Santana had been by far the best sex she’d ever had, that didn’t make her gay, right?

_But the way you kissed her did._

Fuck.

Unbidden, the memories of the day in the sauna came back to her and she shifted subtly, tightening her thigh muscles. Kissing Santana had been nothing short of amazing. She’d felt every kiss down to her toes. The feeling of Santana’s hands on her body still burned to that day. She could feel her skin on fire beneath her Cheerios uniform.

But that didn’t even compare to Santana _really_ touching her. How she’d known exactly where to move and push. There was no doubt that Santana had a very good knowledge of a woman’s body and how best to pleasure it.

_Rachel may have mentioned that on a few occasions._

She frowned. She hardly needed a reminder that Rachel had been with Santana in every way. In all the ways that she…

Fuck, no. She had to stop thinking. Santana was messing with her brain again.

_In all the ways you want to be with her._

She groaned silently. It wasn’t fair to have a know-it-all voice going on and on in her head when it knew all her thoughts. It wasn’t fair that she had to hear the thoughts that she wasn’t ready to hear. Ever.

_Deal with it. You want Santana. And you want her more than once._

Brittany bit her lip. If it was purely physical, it’s didn’t mean anything, right? It didn’t make her gay or anything.

 _Keep telling yourself that when you’re pressed tightly to her and you look into her eyes. Try convincing yourself that it’s_ just _sex then._

Brittany stood up abruptly and walked quickly out of the choir room, not even noticing Quinn in the hallway.

* * *

Santana’s head snapped up when she heard a chair being scraped back on the floor. She saw Brittany walking quickly out of the room.

_What? When the hell did she even get here?_

Granted, she’d been so in her head that it was entirely possible that she hadn’t even noticed Brittany coming in.

“Hey, San,” Quinn greeted quietly, walking up to her. “Thanks for agreeing to this.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, well I guess you got Rachel to guilt me enough.”

Quinn sighed. “This isn’t meant to be a trick. We do need you. Sectionals is going to be tough. We need to win.”

_You need to win, Quinn. Because you need to feel like you’ve achieved something._

She didn’t say what she was thinking, though. She was upset and tired and sad, but she wasn’t naturally a bitch. Well, at least she didn’t try and be mean. Yet she seemed to have no problem hurting Rachel and fighting with Brittany.

The four girls had started their sophomore year in a very interesting way and although the semester was already two and a half months in, it didn’t feel like that amount of time had passed.

Sometimes, though, Santana felt like it had moved in slow motion. The good and especially the bad.

“Hey.”

Her head shot up again and her heart ached at the sight of Rachel. She doubted that it would go away anytime soon.

“Hi, Rachel,” Quinn greeted. “Where’s Brittany?”

Rachel shrugged.

“She ran out a minute ago,” Santana said quietly. “I don’t know where she went, though.”

“Okay, well I guess we can tell you about our idea so long,” Rachel suggested, dropping her bag next to the piano and leaning against it.

Quinn nodded and sat next to Santana, who dutifully turned to give Quinn (even though things were still awkward) her full attention.

“Rachel and I both agreed with what you said about Brittany’s performance of _Mad World_ a few weeks back. It absolutely has to be our opening number.”

“Britt was a little apprehensive about taking lead vocals, so she asked me to help her out,” Rachel added. “And then I thought how awesome you would sound with it and Quinn agreed and we just worked on the song and turned it into a four-part harmony.”

“Acapella,” Quinn added.

“Acapella?” Santana repeated, raising her eyebrows. The idea played around in her head. She nodded. “Okay, that sounds doable. Do you have sheet music?”

She figured that getting lost in the music would distract her from the tension in the room. She and Rachel had agreed to try and be civil and Rachel was definitely holding up her end of the deal. The guilt that ate away at Santana every time she saw her was at the forefront of her mind, though. But she would try.

“Yeah.” Quinn dug around in her bag and handed Santana a few pages. She glanced at the different parts. She figured Rachel and Quinn would take the higher harmonies and she and Brittany, having the lower voices, would take the alto.

“Hey, B. Where’d you disappear to?”

Santana glanced up and saw Brittany looking at her hesitantly. She frowned slightly.

“Uh, just had to go to the bathroom,” she mumbled, walking back to her chair.

“Well, Santana’s on board so we should get into practising,” Quinn suggested.

“Whatever,” Brittany mumbled.

Santana felt a spike of frustration. “How are we starting?” she asked instead.

“Brittany comes in with the first four lines, you follow with the next four, Rachel does the chorus and we all harmonise on the last line. I start the second verse and you do that last half. Brittany ends off with the last chorus and we all come in on the last line again.”

“Those who aren’t singing are carrying the melody, I’m assuming?” Santana asked.

Quinn nodded.

“This sounds awesome,” Santana said honestly. “I think it’s going to sound really good.”

“Okay, well at least we have one of three songs sorted. Let’s get rehearsing,” Rachel said, pushing off from the piano and picking up her bag.

The four girls arranged their chairs in a circle, facing each other. Santana ended up between Quinn and Brittany and opposite Rachel. She supposed it wasn’t going to be easy, no matter where she sat. They discussed the melody that they were going to use and Santana let herself be caught up in creating music. She felt like it had been forever.

“Okay, should we give the first verse a bash?” Quinn suggested, glancing to Brittany and Santana.

Santana nodded and raised her eyebrows to Brittany, who had been unusually quiet. Brittany shrugged. Quinn counted them in and she and Rachel started humming softly.

_“All around me are familiar faces, worn out places, worn out faces. Bright and early for the daily races, going nowhere, going nowhere.”_

Santana nodded. It sounded good so far. She launched into her section with passion.

_“Their tears are filling up their glasses, no expression, no expression. Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow, no tomorrow, no tomorrow.”_

“San, feel free to have fun with that last line,” Quinn suggested.

“Nah, it sounds good as is,” Santana replied. “It’s the right timbre for Rachel to come in with the chorus. This isn’t about power. We need to play it understated.”

A snort from her left caused the three girls to look at Brittany.

“I’m sorry,” Brittany scoffed. “But does anyone else not see the huge glaring irony of what’s going on here? I’m singing about not going anywhere because I’ve got fuck all going for me. Santana’s singing about crying and sorrow and shit cos let’s face it, that’s all she’s been doing all week.”

“Brittany!” Rachel and Quinn said in shock.

“What? This is fucking high school. And it’s a competition for _Glee Club_. You’re all taking this so seriously. Isn’t this whole thing supposed to be ‘fun’ anyway?” She used quotations around the word.

Santana arched an eyebrow and sat back in her chair, looking with interest at Brittany.

“Britt, this isn’t about you or about Glee Club,” Rachel said quietly.

“Well, isn’t that why she’s speaking up now?” Santana replied. “She wants the spotlight, but doesn’t actually have the guts to ask for it. Because in this room, she’s still no one special.”

“How very, _very_ far from the truth you are, Lezpez I see that you must still be suffering somewhat of a concussion from yesterday.”

Santana’s blood boiled. She stood up abruptly, as did everyone else. “I may just take you up on that free slap now, Wonder Barbie.”

“Go for it,” Brittany taunted, her eyes flashing.

“Stop it, you two!” Rachel snapped. “Fuck! I thought we’d moved past this!”

“That’s rich coming from you, Berry. You’re completely hung up on Santana even though she cheated on you.”

_Oh, hell no. I’m so fucking done taking the blame for this._

“Rachel, I know I said that I wasn’t going to tell you who I cheated on you with, but I think that at this stage, hell, what have I got to lose?”

“Um, what the hell is going on?” Rachel asked in confusion. “Santana, I don’t really care who it was. The fact is that you _did_ cheat on me.”

Santana broke away from her staring match with Brittany and looked at Rachel in confusion. “It doesn’t matter? It’ll still be all my fault?”

Rachel shrugged. “You were my girlfriend. You cheated. That’s what matters to me. And…”

It doesn’t matter. She won’t care that it was Brittany. She won’t care because she blames me entirely.

“I…” Santana swallowed the lump in her throat and felt her eyes tear up again.

_Fucking tears. Stop fucking crying!_

“Brittany, what in the hell is wrong with you?” Quinn snapped. “Why can’t you keep your trap shut for once?”

“Why can’t you mind your own fucking business?” Brittany retorted. “None of this would have happened if you had just left things alone!”

“You’re absolutely crazy. I’m convinced of it now,” Quinn said in disbelief. “Please share your theory with the class. I’m dying to know how this is somehow my fault.”

“You went after my man and brainwashed him into joining this stupid club. If he hadn’t joined, I wouldn’t have, and neither would Rachel. Which meant that Rachel and Santana would never have hooked up and then broken up.”

“Britt,” Rachel said warningly.

“Puck’s been gone how long now? A month?” Quinn asked. “And you guys are _still_ here. Don’t tell me that he’s keeping you here because that’s bullshit. We both know that you actually like being here because you don’t have to be the picture-perfect Head Cheerio all the time.”

Brittany glared at her. “Don’t fucking psycho-analyse me. You don’t know jack _shit_ about me or my life. I despise this fucking club. I’m only doing it because Coach Em is making me.”

“Need someone to hold your hand and tell you what to do?” Quinn taunted.

“Stop it,” Santana said quietly. “Brittany, you’re no saint so don’t even try and pretend that you are. Also, no one’s fooled. If you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be. Simple. Quinn, you’ve made mistakes and we acknowledge that. Me, well, we all know what I’ve done.” She sighed. “Let’s just practice and get this over with.” She wiped her eyes as subtly as she could.

“Why should I listen to anything you have to say, Lopez?” Brittany snipped.

Santana closed her eyes. She didn’t need this shit. Brittany Pierce had been the cause of enough headaches in her life over the last two months. She stood up and turned to Brittany, not bothering to stop the tears rolling out of her eyes. “You know what, Brittany? You win. I’m done. Whatever game you want to play with me, I’m giving up. You win, okay? I’m done. I quit.”

She grabbed her bag and walked out before Quinn could stop her. She rounded the corner of the deserted hallways and collapsed against a set of lockers, sliding to the floor as she started sobbing quietly.

No matter what she did, no matter how much she tried, none of it mattered. Brittany had been right all those weeks ago. She was trying to change something that would never be changed. People like Brittany would _always_ come out on top. And people like her would populate the sub-basement with the rest of the vermin.

All she’d managed to do what make a fool out of herself, somehow manage to score the hottest girl in school and then lose her because she fucked her best friend. She didn’t know why she thought that she’d be able to make anything better. It wouldn’t happen. It wasn’t supposed to happen.

Even coming clean wouldn’t make a difference because people at the top would always stick together. It wouldn’t matter that Santana had fucked Brittany because Santana would still be the one blamed. How could she have been so delusional that she honestly thought that she could be the catalyst for change at McKinley? It was never going to happen. She didn’t live in some TV show where the writers could decide who lived and died and broke up and got together. If she did, she sure as hell wouldn’t make it so fucking confusing.

She climbed to her feet and started heading towards the parking lot. She wondered if her parents would consider letting her transfer. Or be home schooled. She was just so over everything and everyone at McKinley. Her confidence was shot to an all-time low because she just did one thing wrong after another. What kind of person _cheated_ on someone that had done so much for them? Rachel was so sweet and spicy and Santana had loved every second of their time together. Even when they were fighting.

It sounded like someone was calling her name, but she ignored it, kept her eyes on the exit and walked quickly towards the door.

“Santana! For fuck’s sakes! Stop!”

She was surprised that Rachel of all people had come after her. The surprise guilt attack had worked once, but clearly, she just caused way too much tension in Glee and as much as she loved singing and performing, she was toxic. She wasn’t about to ruin Glee for everyone else.

Rachel gripped her arm and pulled her to an abrupt stop.

“Just let me go, please,” Santana mumbled, realising that she was still crying.

“No, just listen.”

“No, _you_ listen! Didn’t you hear what happened back there? I’m the one that fucked everything up. Nothing else matters because it all comes back to me. I should never have fallen for you. I knew that it was a bad idea because we’re so different and you’re up in the penthouse where you belong, and I’m-“

“San-“

“-in the doghouse in the shit yard with the rest of the dregs. And that’s where I belong. Brittany was right. The social hierarchy at school is there for a reason. It can’t be changed, simple as that. I thought I could make a difference, but all I did was make things worse. I hurt the most amazing girl in the world because I thought that a fleeting moment was worth it, but it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made and I’m going to spend the rest of my life kicking myself for hurting you when I knew it was wrong. I fucking _knew_ it was wrong, but I still did it anyway and-“

“San-“

“-I know that you deserve to hate me forever and I deserve feeling like shit because what I did was abhorrent. The fact that you’re trying to be the bigger person all the time just shows how amazing you are because I don’t have that strength. I’m sorry, Rach, I really am. I commend you for trying, but I can’t fight so much anymore. I’m exhausted. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“So don’t.”

Santana frowned. “It’s not that easy. It goes against my nature to just accept things, but all I’m doing is making everything worse. I hurt you, I got into two fights with your best friend, I slept with someone that you fucking _know_ , but it doesn’t matter because it’s all my fault and I deserve this. I deserve pain and-“

“San-“

“-it doesn’t matter what you say anymore. You’re an amazing person for trying to do the right thing. You do it so well, Rachel. People admire and respect you. I’m just the irritating girl who doesn’t shut up and who plays hero and martyr for her bunch of misfit friends. But in all honesty, you fit in and I don’t. That’s the bottom line. That’s always been the bottom line and it always will be-“

Santana’s eyes widened when Rachel’s lips were suddenly on hers. She was in such shock that her hands just hung limply at her sides as Rachel’s lips fitted over hers as though they’d never left.

Santana gasped when Rachel pulled away.

“You talk too much. Shut up,” Rachel whispered.

Santana just nodded. She let Rachel push her against the lockers and kiss her again. This time, she reacted. Her arms went around her waist and she angled her head so that their tongues could meet and explore deeply. Rachel pressed into her and it made Santana’s heart pound.

Eventually they broke apart slightly for some air. “By no means are you forgiven,” Rachel said, her voice husky. “But I miss you too.”

Santana looked into her brown eyes for a few moments before leaning down and closing the gap between them. She knew that they weren’t back together. They were both just tired of hurting.

* * *

Brittany rolled her eyes as Quinn continued to yap in her ear about God knows what. Whatever she’d said to any of them had been exactly true. She was just saying what everyone was thinking.

She grabbed her bag and walked out, ignoring Quinn. She had a fucking cheek to try and bitch at Brittany for speaking her mind when everyone else decided to walk around on eggshells and pretend that everything was hunky dory.

Here’s a word for you: hypocrite.

“What the fuck ever,” Brittany muttered, heading for the exit. She froze when she saw Santana. Santana and Rachel. Santana _and_ Rachel. Kissing. Each other. They were kissing. And they weren’t stopping.

_Oh, God. What…why…?_

Brittany felt her chest constrict and she couldn’t breathe. She backtracked quickly and stumbled into the bathroom. She felt too hot, her uniform was too coarse against her skin, only aggravating the rapid heating across her body.

_What the fuck is happening to me?_

She stared at herself in the mirror and flashes of Rachel and Santana came back to her. She squeezed her eyes to get the images out, but they wouldn’t quit.

_They’re supposed to be broken up!_

She opened her eyes and her mouth fell open slightly as a lone tear rolled down her cheek.

She never cried. Ever.

“What the hell is happening to me?” she whispered fearfully.

* * *

It felt so familiar and so warm that Santana just let herself be swept up in the sensation of being back in Rachel’s arms. In the back of her mind, she knew that things were far from right. They weren’t girlfriends, they were barely even speaking, but they were making out like nothing had changed.

Rachel broke away and rested her forehead against Santana’s, breathing heavily.

“This doesn’t mean anything, San. Okay?”

“I know,” Santana whispered, closing her eyes briefly. “I know.”

“I should go,” Rachel said, stepping out of Santana’s hold.

Santana nodded, her arms dropping to her side.

“Look, the reason I actually followed you is to ask you to reconsider Sectionals. Just Sectionals. After that, you’re free to do what you want. If you want to leave Glee, I won’t stop you. I just… I want to know what it feels like to win because I deserve it, not because I’m a Cheerio and it’s expected. And I don’t think we’ll be able to do that if you’re not there.”

Santana sighed and chewed her lip. “Fine,” she said quietly after a while. “Just until Sectionals. But Rach, if she says-“

“I’ll deal with Brittany, don’t you worry,” Rachel cut in, holding up a hand. “Just be there tomorrow, okay?”

Santana nodded, digging her hands into the pockets of her brother’s hoodie. “Why did you kiss me?”

Rachel smirked. “It was the only way to get you to shut up.”

Santana blushed and dropped her gaze. “I don’t think it was a good idea.”

“Yeah, well you’ve done some pretty dumb things so I figure I’ve got some catching up to do.”

_What? Does that mean…?_

“Don’t read too much into it, okay? We’ll talk more tomorrow. Right now, I’ve got a date.”

“Oh,” Santana whispered. Of course she did. She was Rachel Berry. “O-Okay. Have fun.”

“With my dads, you idiot.” Rachel laughed. “Seriously, I get that things are kinda shit, but where’s the Santana I know? Normally she’d be giving me endless sassy one-liners.”

Santana shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t think I can pretend to be this person anymore.”

Rachel caught her eyes and held them for a few moments. “Don’t bullshit me, Santana. The girl that I met, _that_ is the real you. This pathetic version is actually sad. You’re lucky you’re still hot.”

I feel like I’m in some kind of parallel universe.

“Um…”

“You and I are having lunch together tomorrow. We’re going off campus and we’re going to talk, okay? And by then, I want this…inhabitant gone.”

Santana took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Fine. I’ll meet you out front at lunch. We can take my car.”

“Or mine.”

“No, we’ll take mine. That way if things get weird, I can run away and leave you there.”

Rachel grinned. “Much better.”

Santana smiled back. It did feel a little refreshing, even if it was _so_ weird and she had zero understanding of what was actually going on.

“Bye, Lopez.”

“Have a good night, Cherry Berry. Don’t keep your date out too late.”

Rachel gasped in mock horror as she headed back to the choir room. “ _Moi_? I’m the very epitome of chivalry.”

Santana arched an eyebrow. “Says the girl who refused to open the door for me because, and I quote, ‘I have two very capable arms with ten exceptionally talented fingers’.”

“What? I wasn’t wrong.” She stuck her tongue out and disappeared around the corner.

Santana shook her head. _What the fuck just happened?_

* * *

“Home!” Santana called as she opened the door. She shut it behind her and hung her keys on the hook.

“ _Buenas noches, mija_ ,” Carmen greeted teasingly as she stepped out of the kitchen.

Santana rolled her eyes. “I had Glee practice after school for Sectionals. And then…stuff. What’s for dinner?”

She neglected to mention how she’d driven around for like, an hour trying to figure shit out.

Carmen folded her arms across her chest and looked at her daughter pointedly. Santana sighed.

“Strange shit happened, _Mami_. I don’t even know where to begin deciphering it.”

“Well, it couldn’t have been bad if you’re acting more like yourself than you have since Friday.”

Santana winced at the reminder. She saw the realisation in her mother’s eyes and she nodded in understanding.

“Your brothers are loafing in front of the television as usual. Why don’t you round them up and set the table? We’ll enjoy dinner and then sit down and talk.”

Santana sighed nervously and nodded once. She headed up to her room and dropped her bag on her bed. She started unpacking her homework onto her desk out of pure habit – she’d also been neglecting her studies in favour of melancholy. Her phone was buried deep in her bag because she generally hadn’t had a desire to be in contact with anyone since Friday. There were two messages waiting for. The first was from Quinn.

_Are you okay?? Don’t listen to that bitch. She’ll get what’s coming to her. Did Rachel find you?_

Rachel found her all right. Santana bit her lip as she opened a reply screen. She decided that it was best not to divulge to Quinn the details of what had happened between her and Rachel until _she_ understood it herself.

_I’m fine. Rachel found me. She convinced me to stay until Sectionals are over. We’ll see what happens after that. Dinner with the clan now. Chat later._

That would be enough to tide Quinn over. She frowned as she went over Brittany’s tongue lashing towards all of them. It was so unprovoked, so out of nowhere. Everything had been fine, right? Maybe she’d missed something when Brittany had been in the room when she was lost in her world. She sighed but smiled when she saw the next message.

_Is it a bad thing that I'm not sorry...? Rach._

Her fingers flew over the keyboard on her phone. If there was one thing out of the entire day that she was certain of, it was this.

_No. I’m not sorry either._

* * *

She was almost shitting herself she was so nervous. Her father had even consented to her having a beer to try and calm herself down. It was helping, but barely.

“Santanita, what happened on Friday?” Carmen began quietly.

“Oh, God!” Santana sobbed, any courage immediately leaving her. She couldn’t, she couldn’t tell them what she’d done.

Carmen moved over to where she was sitting.

“Look at us, _mija_. Do you see any judgement on our faces?”

Santana wiped away her tears and peeked at her family, who were simply looking at her with concern and love.

_God, how did I get this lucky?_

“I told you last night that no matter what you’ve done, I will not love you any less or treat you any differently.”

“But how do you know you won’t? You don’t even know what I’ve done!” Santana protested, gripping the beer bottle tightly.

“Does this have anything to do with you and Rachel breaking up?” Carmen asked instead, keeping her arm around her daughter’s shoulders.

Santana just nodded once, her focus on the label of the bottle. She was picking at it nervously.

“So something happened on Friday that caused you and Rachel to break up?” Ferdie asked quietly.

Santana took a deep breath. _Here goes._

“I broke up with Rachel on Saturday because I cheated on her on Friday afternoon with her best friend.”

Her shoulders slumped and she stared at the floor in shame, the silence echoing around her. She knew this was going to happen. She knew that they’d be ashamed of her, that they’d hate her. She’d have to move out, maybe even drop out of school. She wondered if Quinn’s parents would take her in?

“Wow, okay. I wasn’t expecting that,” Carmen said quietly.

Santana snorted. “Told you,” she muttered.

“Hey.”

Santana lifted her gaze to look at her father. She never denied him anything. He was a fair disciplinarian and had the respect of everyone in the household. When he spoke, she listened.

“While I don’t agree with infidelity, you did the right thing by Rachel. I understand that you’re both hurting right now and I understand that you are feeling guilty. _Mija_ , wasn’t this the girl that you got into a fight with?”

Santana nodded. “I know how messed up this whole thing is. It’s…convoluted to say the least.”

“Well, why don’t you start from the beginning?” Carmen suggested. “We’re going to listen until you’re finished and if you’d like our opinions on the matter or advice on what you should do, then we’ll be here.”

She breathed out and took a long sip of beer. She glanced at her father. “ _Papi_ , I’m warning you in advance that there may be some parts that you’re not going to like, but it is what it is.”

Her father curled his lip in slight discomfort. “You are my daughter, Santana. I know more than you think I do.”

“O-Okay. Right. Well, I guess it started when we went to the spa. Um, Quinn was having a facial and I went to the sauna. I didn’t realise that Brittany was in there, but when I did, we kind of got to talking. And, strangely, it was like a debate, but very intense. No fighting or anything. Then suddenly she got up to leave. I can’t even remember if I said something wrong. Anyway, she got up and lost her footing on the bench. I grabbed her towel, but it kinda came undone and I pulled on it to stop her from falling and I ended up against the wall with her, naked, in my arms.”

Santana chanced a glance at her family. Thankfully, they all had blank expressions on their faces. Except for her father. He looked like he wanted to run away.

“That was where we first kissed. She initiated it and I…I couldn’t control myself. It was like she ignited this fire inside of me and I _had_ to kiss her back. I know it sounds like bull, but it’s really difficult to explain. Um, things might have gone further than a kiss if Rachel hadn’t interrupted us, but luckily she couldn’t see anything with all the steam. Things were really weird, but Brittany just acted like nothing happened, so I did the same. Oh, I forgot to say what happened our first day back at school. We were in the locker room, just Brittany and I, and she told me that she was jealous of Rachel. Because Rachel was with me. But the next day she was back to being the bitch I knew her as, so I had no idea what to make of it. That’s kinda what’s been so confusing about this whole mess. Brittany blows hot and cold and I never know what’s going on in her head. I don’t think she does either.

“Anyway, so on Friday, we were doing final performances for Glee and Brittany was dancing. But she was looking at me and mouthing the words to a love song and I just…I didn’t know what to do. I had to get out of there. I told Rach I wasn’t feeling well and I drove home. I’d just pulled into the driveway and suddenly Brittany’s behind me and pulls me into that space between the wall and the garage. She starts going on about scratching an itch. She looked at me in that way that I knew she was going to kiss me and I tried to tell her no. Well, I did. I told her that I wasn’t going to hurt Rachel and that she shouldn’t want to hurt her either. And she said…I’ll never forget this. She said, ‘Do you think I want to feel like this? Do you think that I'm happy that all I can think about is that kiss and how much I want to do it again? I don't even like girls, but I can't stop thinking about you’.”

Santana took another swig as she let that particular memory run through her head. As soon as Brittany had said that, she would do whatever Brittany wanted her to do. She hated herself for it.

“I tried telling her that it was a bad idea. I offered to be her friend. I said that I could help her through her confusion, but she kinda called me out on wanting to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss me. I honestly did try and fight it. I can plug that argument until I’m blue in the face, but it doesn’t change the fact that we…” She trailed off.

“You…?” Carmen prompted.

“Come on, Mom. You know what,” Santana said, flushing with embarrassment.

“She might, but I don’t.”

Santana groaned inwardly. “Okay, _Papi_. You want to know? I finger fucked Brittany against our garage wall.”

“ _Dios mio_ ,” Carlos Lopez muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

“Was that really necessary, Santana?” Carmen chided disapprovingly. “We’re willing to hear what you have to say and we want to be here, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a little tact. No parent likes the idea of their kids having sex.”

“ _Lo siento, Papi_ ,” Santana apologised meekly.

“Okay, so you told Rachel that you…you…with Brittany and you guys broke up?” Carlos eventually asked, his voice a little strangled.

“Well, sort of. I didn’t tell her who it was. I texted Brittany on Saturday morning to tell her that I was coming clean with Rachel because it wasn’t fair to her. Not after everything she’d done for me. In true Brittany fashion she told me that I was welcome to flush my relationship down the toilet, but that it wasn’t fair of me to take her down too.”

“So Rachel doesn’t know that it was Brittany?” Miguel asked, his brow furrowed.

Santana nodded. Miguel had been busy at college so he hadn’t really been home to see the whole fallout. Angelo had probably filled him in.

“ _Mija_ , was it wise not to tell Rachel? I mean, this is her best friend who’s lying to her about so many things.”

Santana shrugged. “Honestly, that’s between Rachel and Brittany. There were many moments where I wanted _so_ badly to tell Rachel and watch her tear Brittany a new one so that she felt as horrible as I do, but…I couldn’t.”

“While I admire that, you realise that this wasn’t your best judgement call,” Carlos said.

“I do. Rachel was so hurt when I told her, and really angry. Understandably, of course. I just feel so guilty about the whole thing and angry with myself, with Brittany. I’m sad that I lost a really great girl. It…I just felt like I wasn’t doing anything right. Every choice I made just led me from bad to worse.”

“ _Hermana_ , if I may, as clichéd as it sounds, you need to give it time. I know that you don’t let people in easily, so I realise that Rachel was special. And I saw you two together. You were a good match. Have you tried speaking to her at all?”

Santana blushed and looked down, her afternoon siesta coming back to the forefront of her mind.

“I know that look!” Angelo stated. “That’s your _I did something wrong that I’m kinda proud of_ look.”

“What the hell kind of a look is that?’ Santana retorted, frowning.

“Apparently one that you just had on your face,” Carmen quipped. “I’m pretty sure that not much else would surprise us at this stage.”

Santana grimaced. Her family probably thought she was a slut and were wondering when the hell she’d gotten like that and how bad a representative of the family name she was.

“ _Mija_ , we love you,” Carlos said quietly. “Even though I know things now that I kind of wish I didn’t, I still love you just as much as I did before we had this talk.”

Santana’s eyes filled with tears and she had to get up and give her father a hug.

“ _Te amo, Papi_ ,” she whispered.

“I know, Santanita. Me too.”

She returned to her seat to finish up the story. “Okay, so we were rehearsing a new number for Sectionals after school today. It was just Rachel, Quinn, Brittany and myself. Everything was going fine and then Brittany just starts going off at everyone. At me, at Quinn. She even had a go at Rachel. We were all completely confused about what was going on. But she said a few things that kind of hit home and Rachel said some things that made me realise that she blamed me for everything. Which is accurate, I guess. It didn’t make it any easier to hear it, though. I pulled the coward card and walked out.”

“Did you…did you quit?” Carmen asked.

Santana nodded and her mother gasped. “Santana, what did she say? It must have been really horrible for you to quit Glee. You love that club.”

“I know.” Santana sighed. “Rachel caught up to me, though. I just started talking and I couldn’t stop. It was like word vomit. I told her how I was sorry and that she deserved better and I deserved to be sad and blah blah. I don’t remember most of it. She was trying to interrupt me, but I guess I was on a roll. Um, so she kissed me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t expect that.”

Santana chuckled dryly. “Neither did I, trust me. But that didn’t stop us from having a make out session against the lockers.”

“Okay, so what does that mean?” Miguel asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. We’re having lunch tomorrow and we’re going to talk about it. She said that it didn’t mean anything, but she missed me, so…”

“Damn, Santa. This is some confusing shit,” Angelo muttered.

“Hmmm,” Santana hummed. “So…you know my deep dark secret,” she said quietly. “How much do you hate me?”

“Don’t be silly, Santana!” Carmen exclaimed, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. “Everyone makes mistakes. Yes, what you did was a bad thing, but I still love you and I will support you in whatever you decide to do. _Mija_ , I know you. You seldom do things without thinking, which leads me to wonder about this Brittany girl, but no matter. When you do make a mistake, you do all you can to rectify it, which is why I know that you’re going to be okay. Yes, you’ll have your off days, as we all do. But you need to remember that we are always going to be here for you.”

“ _Gracias, Mami_. God, I love you guys so much,” Santana choked out. “You have no idea how scared I was.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to get rid of us, Santanita,” Carlos said with a loving smile. “Now, if you’d come and told us that you were pregnant,” he joked.

Santana lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, yeah. About that, _Papi_. Um…so there was this one party and people were drinking and-“

“Santana, you’d better be joking right now!” Carlos thundered. “ _No me gusta.”_

She swallowed. “Okay, okay. Guess it was too early to bring out the jokes.” She smiled weakly. “Sorry.”

Carlos breathed a sigh of relief and Carmen just shook her head at her mischievous daughter.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while...I know. I'm sorry.

Santana leaned against her car, checking her social media feeds on her phone as she waited for Rachel. They were headed to some sushi place that Rachel loved. Santana wasn’t a big fan of raw fish, but she was eager to talk and try to figure out what the actual hell was going on with them.

“Hey.”

She looked up and met Rachel’s guarded eyes. She supposed it was understandable. As hot as their make out session had been the previous afternoon, it was impulsive and probably not the best solution to a big problem.

“Hey.” Santana opened the passenger door for Rachel and she slid in. Within two minutes, they were on their way, the silence in the car only broken by Rachel’s murmured directions.

“Why is this so weird?” Rachel asked once they were seated in the restaurant with two glasses of water.

Santana shrugged, studying the condensation on her glass. “I don’t know. We’ve never really had to deal with awkward before.”

“So why this strange uneasiness now?”

Santana sighed and looked up. “Maybe because I feel like shit for what I did and I’m not entirely sure if this is possibly some elaborate scheme to humiliate me for hurting you. Which, in all honesty, I probably deserve.”

“Wow. Thanks for crediting me with some tact,” Rachel replied dryly, frowning.

“No, Rach, that wasn’t an underhanded dig at you. I guess I’m just wondering _why_ you would want to even talk to me, let alone initiate a really hot make out sesh.”

Rachel couldn’t hide her grin. “Well, like I said, San…I miss you. Regardless of how things ended between us – and don’t think that I’m any less hurt or angry about it – you meant a lot to me and it’s difficult for me to just forget like you didn’t somehow worm your way inside my head and my heart.”

Santana looked at her for a few moments, her eyes taking in every muscle movement and reaction as she spoke.

“I miss you too,” she eventually murmured. “But you can understand my confusion regarding this whole situation that we find ourselves in, right? I mean, you say that you’re still mad – understandably – and hurt, but you kissed me. Regardless of the purpose behind that first kiss, you still did it. You made the first move. I can’t figure that part out.”

Rachel nibbled on her bottom lip. “I don’t do feelings or relationships. You know that. Well, I didn’t before I met you. I guess maybe this feeling is why relationships in high school are always so complicated. We can’t let go of this pull.”

“Pull?”

“Yeah. I don’t really know how to explain without sounding like a fucking sap.”

“I like it when you’re a sap,” Santana murmured.

Rachel was quiet for a few seconds, but they didn’t look at each other. “I feel connected to you, more than I’ve felt connected to anyone else. And it’s a different kind of connection than the one I have with my dads or with Britt.”

Santana winced inwardly.

“I feel drawn to you. I mean, you fucking hurt me worse than I’ve ever been hurt in my life, but I _still_ can’t stop thinking about you and missing you. Which is why I didn’t regret kissing you yesterday. It felt…invigorating.”

That coaxed an arched eyebrow from Santana. Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Not like that. Perv.”

Santana just grinned.

“Riddle me this, Lopez. You kissed me back pretty eagerly.”

“Well, yeah. I still care about you. And I do miss you like crazy. I miss being with you in every way that we were together. Not just physically. I miss being able to hold your hand when we walked to lunch, or driving you home, or doing homework together-“

“Our library study sessions.”

“Our impulsive ice cream missions.”

“Singing with you in Glee.”

“Dancing with you in Glee.”

They looked at each other and Santana could swear that she saw Rachel fighting with herself.

“What do you want, Rachel? Honestly?”

Rachel scoffed. “What do I honestly want? I want to transfer myself to a reality where you and Brittany had never started fighting. Where you could actually get along.”

Santana bit her lip. “Rach, a reality like that sounds like a badly written TV show.”

“Is it really so difficult to imagine?”

“I…” Santana frowned. Was it really unfathomable that she and Brittany could ever be…friends? Or anything more than that?

_Stop. You’re not going down that rabbit hole again._

“Rachel, I think Brittany and I just clash way too much on so many things that we can’t get along. Trust me, if there was a way for her to not feel so fucking threatened by me for some unknown reason, I’d jump on the bandwagon and fanfare down the halls of McKinley. But that’s wishful thinking. There’s obviously something about me that she doesn’t like.”

_Or likes too much._

Santana grimaced inwardly. That would be so completely fucked up on way too many levels.

“I’m going to speak to her when we get back to school,” Rachel said. “What happened yesterday…what she said, it was completely uncalled for.”

“I’m sorry for being blunt, but why are you friends with her, Rach? I mean, she’s a bitch, even to you. Is it worth it?”

Rachel caught their waitress and ordered a platter for them before meeting Santana’s eyes. “My friendship with Brittany is…odd, I suppose. We don’t have sleepovers or do any of the normal best friend things, but she’s always got my back. Just like I have hers.”

“Yet here you are, sitting with me because your best friend pulled a Jerry Springer special on us all. I just…I guess I’m trying to understand if it’s me, you or us together that seems to set her off.”

“I wish I knew. What I do know is that Brittany doesn’t have a say in what I do with my life. The same as I don’t care that she’s fucking Finn Hudson every day because she needs validation that she’s a hot piece of ass.”

Santana didn’t bother hiding her grimace. She hated that she wasn’t sure if it was because of Brittany sleeping with Finn or if it was because she was sleeping with _Finn_.

“Okay, so we’ve covered that your best friend is crazy and that we obviously still have feelings for each other. Now what?”

Rachel sighed. “I can’t… We can’t be together again, Santana. At least…well, it’s still too fresh, you know?”

“Totally. But the whole making out thing confuses things if we’re not getting back together.”

“Um, yeah. Okay, so it’s pointless to suggest that we pretend it didn’t happen because a) it was way too hot to be forgotten and b) we’ve already admitted that we miss each other so it’s pointless denying anything else.”

“Rachel, I’m really sorry,” Santana said quietly. “I know it’s redundant and sounds like bullshit, but I really never wanted to hurt you. Obviously, you were hurt and I hate that it was because of me.”

Rachel was quiet for a while. “For those ten minutes yesterday, I felt better than I have in days. I felt calm and like I was exactly where I supposed to be.”

Santana lifted her eyebrows in surprise.

“However, we’re not getting back together, Santana. It may have felt right and we may still have feelings for each other and be attracted to each other, but I can’t… I can’t trust you with my heart again. Not when you broke it so easily before.”

Santana dropped her head and nodded. “So, if we’re not forgetting yesterday, but not getting back together, then what are we?”

“How about we try being friends?”

“Friends?”

“Yeah, friends.”

“Friends who’ve slept together?” Santana asked sceptically. “I don’t know, Rachel. Do you think we could be _just_ friends?”

Rachel shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. But I’ve realised that trying to pretend that you’re not intertwined in my life is stupid. Because you are, in so many ways. Look, I know it’s not going to be easy for us, but I’d like to at least try.” She looked up and locked eyes with Santana. “If we were to ever get back together, we need to start somewhere.”

Santana felt hope surge through her, but tried to quell her excitement. She nodded a few times. “Okay. Let’s do the friends thing. We’ve gotta start somewhere.”

Rachel smiled. “Good.”

* * *

Brittany was grabbing some water from a fountain when she saw Rachel and Santana walk back into school just before lunch was due to end. They were smiling and talking as though nothing had happened.

Which only cemented her fear of what she’d seen after their rehearsal the previous day.

“Hey, Britt,” Rachel said as they walked up.

She just raised an eyebrow. Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Get over yourself, B. Santana and I are working on our friendship.”

“Friendship?” She hated that she felt her hopes go up a tiny little bit.

“Yeah. Gotta start somewhere,” Rachel replied, smiling at Santana who returned it.

“Um, I’m gonna go and see if I can catch Quinn before Chem. See you in Glee, Rach. Um, bye, Brittany,” she mumbled before walking off quickly.

Brittany watched her go down the corridor until Rachel huffing drew her attention.

“What?” she asked at the unimpressed look on Rachel’s face.

“You are honestly the most frustrating person in the world to try and understand. One minute you’re telling her she’s worthless and the next you just ignore her.”

Brittany shrugged nonchalantly, even though her heart rate picked up a little. Rachel couldn’t figure out what had happened. She couldn’t. It would be humiliating. For both of them.

“What’s up with the whole friendship thing?” she asked instead, diverting the attention off her erratic behaviour.

Rachel sighed. “Yesterday when Santana ran out, I followed her out and she just started babbling about how she’d never be good enough for me and how everything was her fault. Basically agreeing with the bullshit that you were spewing.”

“Bullshit?” Brittany asked in amusement. “Really? Sounds like she thinks I may be right.”

“Just because she’s hurting, B. Anyway, we kinda started making out.”

Brittany pursed her lips. She hardly needed a reminder of that display. It was etched into her head and the reason why she’d only managed to get three hours of very light sleep.

“At first, I was just trying to get her to shut up, but then I just let myself miss her.”

“That’s healthy,” Brittany muttered, leaning against the fountain and crossing her arms.

Rachel shot her a glare. “I don’t expect you to know what it feels like to physically ache for someone because you miss them so much and want to be near them.”

_Oh, bestie, how surprised you’d be if I told you the truth._

Instead, she shrugged.

“Anyway, so we went to lunch today and just talked about everything.”

“Do you want to get back together with her?” Brittany asked curiously. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle an affirmative answer.

“No,” Rachel responded and Brittany breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, definitely not now. As much as we miss each other and still have feelings for each other, I can’t trust her. I’m still hurt about what she did and I can’t just let that go so quickly. I have too much self-respect for that.”

_At least one of you do. Or one of us._

“Well, I just hope you know what you’re doing. How do you know Santana’s willing to be just a friend to you?”

“Because I know her. And she still wants me just as much as I want her. We’re too intertwined in each other’s lives, even though we’re not together, to try and just avoid each other. It’s way too tiring and I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to have another genuine friend other than you.”

Brittany arched an eyebrow. “But you’ve slept together.”

“I’m well aware of that, Britt. Hence the friendship first.”

“But how the fuck are you going to be friends with someone you’ve had sex with?”

“Not all of us are as cold-hearted and callous as you, Britt,” Rachel quipped, spinning on her toe as they bell rang.

“Whatever,” she muttered. As long as she didn’t have to deal with Santana longer than necessary, she’d be fine. No contact at all would be preferable, but that was hardly likely.

“Oh, and lay off Santana, Britt. I mean it. She’s back in Glee for Sectionals, but you’d better not say anything else.”

“Or what?” Brittany sneered.

Rachel smirked. “You really wanna find out?”

Brittany considered her options. Rachel probably did have a lot of dirt on her, more than she probably realised. “So I have to play nice with Lupus even though you’re not together? How is that fucking fair?”

“Well, we’re doing this new thing where we’re being genuine to people who are nice to us. Santana hasn’t done anything to you-“

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

“She hasn’t done anything that you didn’t initiate, B. Don’t play the fucking victim. You’re just as responsible for everything that’s happened between the two of you. Probably even more so.”

“Jesus, I don’t fucking believe this!” Brittany snapped. “You may as well have a choke chain fitted because this is exactly the same thing that happened when you decided to shack up with that-“

“Be very careful, Britt,” Rachel cut in with a warning tone. “You’re my best friend. I love you and I’ll always have your back, but I care about Santana too and I need her in my life. If I ever had to make a choice, the way you’re acting right now makes it very easy to choose her. So think about what _you_ want before you let that toxic mouth of yours run away with you. Okay?”

Brittany could only watch as Rachel walked away, her words ringing in her ears.

_Think about what you want._

She hated that the only thing that came into her head was a picture of long dark hair, dark eyes and plump lips.

* * *

Sectionals practice was torture. Not only did she have to pretend that she was some happy-go-lucky cheerleader for two hours while she, Santana, Rachel and Quinn perfected their song, but then had to instruct the entire club in the choreography for their second and third numbers. Finn didn’t prove to be a distraction _at_ all. All Brittany could hear was Santana giggling with Quinn and Rachel.

If they hadn’t latched onto the choreography so damn quickly, she could at least yell at them, but she had no reason to and Rachel kept sending her knowing looks so she had to be on her best fucking behaviour.

When Ms. S finally let them go, Brittany headed back to the field. She needed to run. She didn’t want to go home and she didn’t want to see anyone else. She changed into a pair of shorts and tank top – Coach Em had long left the school so she wouldn’t get into shit for not being in uniform. She turned her music on loudly and tightened her laces. She needed to get out of her head. Running always helped clear her mind. And she definitely needed to clear her mind.

_Only of one person in particular._

Brittany frowned at the stupid, persistent voice in her head that seemed to thrive on taking every available opportunity to remind her that she couldn’t stop thinking about Santana and that whatever scratch she’d itched last Friday had simply returned with a vengeance. A big vengeance.

And _that_ scared the shit out of Brittany. Because if she was thinking about doing those things with Santana _again_ , that would mean that she may not be as straight as she thought…

“Stop it,” she said out loud. “Just stop it. Forget about everything. Forget about her. You can’t... You _can’t_ think about her like that. Or in any way.”

Brittany nodded as she said the words, as though the action would convince her more of what she said.

_Just run. Run to get her out of your head. You can’t think about her anymore. You can’t. Not now. Not ever again._

* * *

An hour and a half later, Brittany’s breathing was laboured and her leg muscles were burning with exertion, but she still kept going because every time she closed her eyes, Santana popped up.

_Why can’t I get her out of my head?_

Brittany felt like she was going to cry. She hated feeling helpless about something that she should have control over. After another three laps, she collapsed next to the bleachers and lay down on the grass, letting the lyrics of whatever song was playing just wash over her. It was a song that Rachel had been singing a few weeks back to the point where she’d eventually snapped at her to shut up.

_“I'm so addicted to all the things you do when you're going down on me in between the sheets or the sound you make with every breath you take. It's unlike anything when you're loving me.”_

Brittany sat up abruptly and pulled the ear pieces out. She vaguely remembered Rachel actually singing that song at some point. Had it been at a party? Or Glee? No, definitely not. Ms. S would have a heart attack with those lyrics.

_Bet you’d like to feel Santana between the sheets._

“Shut up!” Brittany cried in despair, covering her ears with her hands. She couldn’t think of Santana like that. She couldn’t and she wouldn’t.

“Is that you, Mr. Joe?”

Brittany froze and looked around frantically. The last thing she needed was someone overhearing her mental breakdown. She couldn’t see anyone so she got up and walked around to the back of the bleachers. Afroboy was resting across the tatty couch and blowing smoke rings from something that definitely was not a cigarette.

“Lady Cheerio!” Afroboy said with a crooked grin. “I bid thee a good afternoon.”

Brittany rolled her eyes. Now she remembered why she never ventured this far from the school.

“You want some?” Afroboy offered, holding the joint out to her.

She hesitated. She wasn’t a stranger to smoking at all, but if she was ever caught, the shit would hit the fan. It was almost six o’clock; the teachers were pretty much all gone and they probably wouldn’t venture this far from the parking lot.

_Fuck it. It’s not like much else can go wrong in my life._

Brittany stepped towards the couch and took the blunt from Afroboy’s fingers. She drew in big, holding the smoke in for as long as she could. She could taste the weed as she exhaled slowly and nodded her head in approval.

“This is some good Mary Jane, Afroboy.”

“Only the best for Lady Cheerio.”

Brittany rolled her eyes and flopped onto the couch next to him. They finished the blunt and Afroboy pulled another one out, but Brittany declined. She was pleasantly buzzing, but she did need to drive home.

“Who’s got your head in a Celtic knot?”

“A what now?”

“Super complex knot.”

“Riiiiiight.” Brittany looked down at her hands. “Do you have a girlfriend, Afroboy?”

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Do you prefer either?”

“I like bugs,” Afroboy declared.

Brittany pulled a face. “Are you a closeted creepy bug boy?”

“I don’t like closets. They’re stuffy.”

“So have you come parading out?”

“I like parades!”

“Parades are cool,” Brittany conceded.

“Do you like closets?” Afroboy asked suddenly.

She froze, suddenly confronted with a startling truth. “Um…”

“Oh, my Lady Cheerio has a Lady Cheerio crush!”

“Shut up. I don’t. We’re in high school. We don’t get damn crushes.”

“Who is she?”

Brittany shrugged, focusing on her hands. “Just a girl.”

“You like her?”

_Do I?_

Could that be why she couldn’t stop think about her? Why she simultaneously wanted to run in the other direction when she saw her, but also hold her close and never let her go?

_Holy crap!_

“Do you like butterflies?”

Brittany blinked. “We’re back to bugs?”

“My favourite butterflies are the ones that live in your stomach.”

“Ew.” She wrinkled her nose.

“When you see that special someone and you can’t help but let the butterflies fly free cos they’re just as happy to see that person as you are.”

Brittany found her throat suddenly dry. It was like Afroboy was reaching into her brain and pulling out her thoughts.

Crap!

What if he really was a doing that? What if he found out about her and Santana, about what they’d done? About how they’d felt…

Brittany felt a goofy grin cross her face as she remembered the brief moments she’d had with Santana and how amazing she’d made her feel with a kiss and when she brought her higher than anything or anyone had before.

“You’re thinking about her,” Afroboy said determinedly. “And you like her. Lady Cheerio has a girlfriend!” he started to sing.

“Shut the fuck up, Afroboy!” she hissed, swatting his arm.

“Oh.”

“What, oh? What are you thinking, huh? Cos let me tell you right now, you’ll so far off that you’re in the fucking ocean.”

“Where?” Afroboy asked excitedly, looking around.

Brittany sighed and rolled her eyes. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing that he was so out of it – he would probably brush off anything she said as a joke and never mention it again.

“Hey, what else do you get?” she asked quietly.

He just stared at her.

“You know, with the butterflies. When you see her…whomever.”

“Oh! Well, the best part was when she didn’t even know that I was looking. She knew who I was, but never knew how much I actually liked her.”

_Liked her. Like her. Do I like her?_

“I used to make sure that I’d get to our classes early so that I could watch her walk in. She’s so beautiful. And she doesn’t even know how beautiful she is.”

“Damn, Afroboy. You’re crushing hard. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“You’ll laugh at me,” he mumbled. It was the first time she’d seen any form of self-consciousness.

“I totally promise I won’t,” Brittany replied solemnly, holding up four fingers. ”Scout’s honour.”

“Silly Lady Cheerio! Scout’s honour is two fingers.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn it was four.”

“Definitely two,” Afroboy said with certainty.

“Don’t hide out on my now. You were gonna tell me who your mystery woman is.”

“I’ll tell you mine of you tell me yours,” he challenged.

The smile on her face dropped immediately and she shook her head violently. “No, no, no, no, no. No one will ever know. No one will ever know. They can’t. I’d…she’d…they’d…” She started breathing really quickly.

_He can’t know! No one can! Ever!! Shit, maybe I should kill him because he already knows that it’s a girl._

“Hey, Afroboy, you know that this is part of the mission, right? Which means no blabbing. Especially to the gleeks.”

“Yeah, totally, Lady Cheerio.” He saluted clumsily. “You can count on me.”

Brittany glanced up at the sky. “I should go. It’s getting late.”

“I like the night. And the day. And the morning and the evening and all the hours in between.”

“Yeah, hours are cool,” Brittany mused.

“Watching from a distance is fun for a while, but it doesn’t last forever. Not when the like becomes something more.”

“More?” she squeaked. “M-m-more like what?”

Afroboy grinned. “Love, of course.”

 _Oh, Jesus, no_.

“Not me. I don’t do that love shit. It’s for losers.”

“Losers? Love makes the world go round.” He laughed suddenly. “Santana used to say that all the time when we were kids.”

“S-Santana said that?”

He nodded. “She’s a huge romantic. That’s one thing that will never change. I know she’s still looking for her great love.”

Brittany swallowed the razor blades imbedded in cotton wool that had lodged itself inside her throat. “W-what if she’s found it? Her great love?”

Afroboy looked thoughtful. “You mean Cheerio Berry-o?”

_Does he have nicknames for everyone?_

“Yeah,” she said in almost a whisper, hating how fearful she was of what he thought the answer might be.

“Santana likes her, but she doesn’t love her. Love is something that you’ll know as soon as it hits you. When you look at that person and their eyes meet yours and _boom_.”

“Boom?”

“Boom.”

“What the fuck is boom? What does that mean?”

“It means whatever it needs to mean. Some people have sparkly banners, some people have music playing, some people have full fanfares, some people don’t have anything. They just experience each other.”

Brittany frowned. That sounded absolutely ridiculous, which only further supported her idea that love was a farce. Nobody could give her a straight answer when she asked them.

_Time for some experimenting. I wanna test this theory of Afroboy’s and see if I do like Santana._

She ignored the annoying voice that teasingly reminded her that there was no theory and that she just wanted an excuse to stare at Santana. She blinked suddenly out of her reverie and pushed herself off the couch.

“Thanks for the smoke, Afroboy. But remember, this never happened.”

Afroboy grinned and waved as Brittany jogged away from the bleachers and back to the locker room for a warm shower.

* * *

Blaine waited until he was sure that Brittany was long gone before pulling out his phone. It rang twice before someone picked up.

“Hey, sexy. You’ll never guess what I just found out about one Brittany Pierce.”


	24. Chapter 24

“Room assignments!” Miss S yelled. “Settle down, please!”

Santana let out a piercing whistle and the bus got quiet.

“Thank you, Santana,” Miss S said with a grateful smile.

“So long as you put me with Mercedes. We’re gonna keep everyone up with our…antics,” she quipped.

Mercedes smacked her head and Rachel chuckled. Santana wrinkled her nose. She was glad that things had kinda gone back to normal. They were headed to the next county for their Sectionals competition. She and Rachel were talking quite a bit, which was good, but it didn’t make her miss her any less. Thankfully, the _other_ cheerleader in her life, albeit unwittingly, had been surprisingly quiet. Santana had never asked, but she guessed that whatever Rachel had said to Brittany had worked.

“Actually, Santana, I’ve roomed you with Quinn,” Miss S said.

Santana sighed dramatically. “I _suppose_ that will have to do. Lord knows she’s the only one that can keep up with my bed hogging.”

Rachel snorted and the bus went even more silent.

_Fucking awkward._

“Just poke her ass and she’ll curl up into a little ball,” Quinn commented, her lips making a popping sound as she continued devouring the lollipop Rachel had given her.

“Quinnie!” Santana whined. “Stop giving away all of my secrets!”

“Oh, honey, everyone knows your secrets,’ Quinn replied. “You suck at keeping them.”

Santana took a swig of water, keeping her gaze far away from the person passed out next to Rachel.

_Yeah, I definitely suck at keeping secrets, Quinnie. Only because you know all of them._

“Moving on! David! You and Finn are together. Mercedes is with Tina. Sam is with Blaine.” Santana didn’t miss the way Sam’s eyes lit up at that. She smiled to herself. She’d always suspected that Blaine wasn’t completely straight. Maybe Sammy Evans would get an answer for her on their excursion.

“Rachel and Brittany!” Miss S called. “And for the record, your room is on the opposite end of the hall to Santana and Quinn’s.”

“Miss S!” Santana gasped, her hand fluttering to her heart in dramatic hurt. “It’s like you don’t trust us!”

“I don’t,” Miss S said simply and everyone laughed. Santana just smiled and shook her head.

“I’m glad we’re rooming together,” Quinn said, nudging her shoulder. “I feel like I haven’t had some bestie time with you since the breakup.”

Santana rested her head on Quinn’s shoulder. “I hated myself, Quinnie. I still do. And I felt like you did too. Deservedly. I got where you were coming from.” She sighed. “I was in a dark space for a while.”

“I wanted to reach out to you,” Quinn admitted quietly. “I mean, I did try, but I could’ve tried harder. A few calls and texts when you were hurting really badly isn’t exactly top best friend form.”

Santana and lifted her head. “I was pissed at you. And myself. Ugh.” She ran a hand through her hair roughly. “I was looking for anyone to blame.”

“Well, promise we’ll have a Quinn and Santana night tonight?” Quinn asked hopefully.

“It’s a date,” Santana said with a big smile.

“You’re dating?” Rachel asked, squeezing in next to them.

“Oh, yeah. Didn’t you hear?” We’re totally the hottest it-couple at McKinley,” Santana joked with a chuckle.

Rachel didn’t laugh, though. She just gave them a strange look. Santana swallowed nervously, her words playing over in her head.

_Not exactly the best choice of words, Lopez._

“Please, you wish, Lopez,” Quinn huffed, tossing her hair back. “I’m way out of your league.”

Santana turned to her best friend and gave her a small smile. “You’re in league of queens, Quinnie. And one day you’ll find your king.”

“Or queen” Rachel piped up.

Both Quinn and Santana chuckled.

“Um, no…I think it’ll be a king,” Quinn confirmed.

“No temptations at all?” Rachel teased. “After all, your best friend is totally smokin’.”

Santana blushed and concentrated on her hands. She and Rachel weren’t together, but compliments like that still made her stomach flutter. She wished so much that she could just turn and kiss her, even if it was just on the cheek.

“That she is, but she’s like my sister, and I can’t say that I’m a fan of incest.”

Santana pulled a face and Rachel laughed.

“A very valid point, Quinn. Valid and slightly disturbing.”

There was a brief silence before Rachel broke it again, “So, I was thinking that the three of us might go out for dinner or something when we get back. Just as friends,” she clarified.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Santana murmured, angling her head to give Rachel a small smile.

“Sounds like fun,” Quinn agreed. “Let’s try somewhere that _isn’t_ Breadstix.”

Santana’s mouth dropped open. “Why would you do that, Quinnie? Why would you say something so hurtful?”

“Well, I heard their breadsticks were average at best,” Rachel continued, sending Quinn a knowing wink. Santana’s love for breadsticks were anything but a secret.

“Take that back!”

“Nah.”

“Breadstix is amazing and their doughy sticks of goodness are too perfect for words. No articulation could truly capture the magnitude of their awesomeness.”

Rachel leaned closer, cutting Santana’s rant off. “You know, San, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were compensating for something with those long sticks of bread.”

“Oh, God,” Santana choked, holding a hand over her mouth in horror. “I think I just threw up a little.”

Rachel burst into giggles, followed shortly by Quinn. Santana folded her arms and pouted. It was totally not fair that they were teasing her love of breadsticks. And why did they have to go and make it all phallic? Gross.

“You guys are mean,” she mumbled.

“Aw, Sanny Bear, it’s okay,” Quinn cooed, pinching her cheek affectionately. “We still love you, even though you have an unhealthy obsession with…sticks.”

That just sent her and Rachel into peals of laughter again.

“I’m not talking to you guys,” Santana said firmly.

* * *

Brittany awoke with a start at the sound of annoyingly loud laughter. She glared at Rachel sitting with Santana and Quinn, having a grand ol’ time. Santana didn’t look very pleased, though.

_Are they fighting?_

She hated how hopeful she sounded.

The last week and a bit had been quite revealing for her. She’d learned a lot about herself and about Santana. As it turned out, the subtle staring missions she’d been undertaking had not only proven that she did feel _something_ for the girl that had turned her world upside down, but that something was way bigger than she could’ve ever imagined.

And that scared the shit out of her.

She vividly remembered that way Blaine had described the butterflies and that need to see the object of affection all the time. Brittany had quickly discovered that she couldn’t go a day without glimpsing Santana secretly. She was aloof, as expected, in Glee – because that would just be too fucking obvious. But she’d taken to taking detours passed the library and silently observing her from behind stacks.

She liked Santana Lopez.

Like _liked_ her.

She’d never been so scared of something in her entire life. What did it mean? Was she gay? That would be a disaster. She was still sleeping with Finn, so did that make her bisexual?

 _Yeah, cos sleeping with Finn is_ so _fulfilling._

Brittany turned her head and stared out of the window as a blush crossed her face. Every time she’d been with Finn, she’d been thinking of Santana. The first few times, she’d tried to focus on Finn, on being with him and feeling him. But she’d struggled to orgasm. The second she stared picturing Santana’s hands running all over her body, her arousal spiked and she’d come within a minute. It was actually scary how much the Santana in her head turned her on.

 _Fuck, now I’m getting flustered on a goddamn bus to Nowheresville_. _Perfect._

Another squeal of laughter caused her to turn her head back to Santana, Quinn and Rachel. They were in the middle of a tickle war – really, _how_ old were they? – and Brittany found herself taking in every movement of Santana’s face. How her mouth moved when she laughed, how her eyes sparkled, how she wrinkled her nose when she was being mischievous.

Yup, cue the fluttery heart and sweaty palms.

She was so screwed.

* * *

“Hey, Britt,” Finn said, stepping in line next to her. They were waiting in line at the hotel they were staying at to check in.

“Hey,” Brittany replied monotonously.

She was tired and frustrated. She’d had to endure adorable giggles from Santana the entire fucking bus ride. She hated that she could listen to the sound for hours on end, but she also hated that she wasn’t the one causing them. Nope, that prize would go to Rachel. Brittany was terrified that Rachel and Santana would get back together because then her feelings would be _so_ wrong.

She wondered if this is what Santana had felt when they’d…done stuff and she’d had to lie to Rachel. If the confusion and guilt was anything like what she was feeling then… _fuck_. She didn’t blame Santana for hating her. She hoped that one day Santana may actually forgive her for handling things how she did.

The worst part was that everything was only going on in Brittany’s head. There was no way that she could ever vocalise any of it. She just couldn’t. There was no way. Even if Santana came up to her and told her that she wanted to be with her, Brittany doubted that she would be able to do it. The guilt and hatred that she was feeling was too much.

“Britt?”

“Huh, what?”

“You spaced on me,” Finn said with a grin.

Brittany slapped on her Fake 101 smile. “Sorry, Finn. I guess I’m just preoccupied about the competition. Pretty sure Lauren and Dave are gonna fuck up that third combo in the final number. They still haven’t got it right.”

Finn slung an arm around her shoulders and she resisted the urge to push it off. She had to keep him around. Maybe he might still be able to stop this infatuation with Santana.

_Ha! Keep dreaming, Blondie._

She knew it was kinda pointless. But she needed to try and get rid of these feelings. She’d acknowledged them and finally admitted that she liked Santana, but that didn’t mean that she could _ever_ give into them. Doing that had gotten her into this whole mess in the first place.

“So, what do you say?” Finn asked.

“Huh?”

Finn looked at her curiously.

“Rachel, stop it!”

Brittany whirled around at the sound of Santana’s voice right behind her. Rachel was poking her in the side and even though Santana sounded pissed, there was a smile on her face.

_God, that smile…_

“Britt?” Finn prodded.

“Sorry,” Brittany apologised, tearing her gaze away from Santana before she got caught staring.

“Maybe you need a night off,” Finn hinted with a smile. “I’ve already spoken to Dave and he’s happy to room with Lauren. I think he’d prefer it, actually.”

He wiggled his eyebrows and Brittany tried not to frown at how ridiculous he looked.

_Appearances. Right. You have to be straight. You can’t be anything else_

“You know what, Finnocence?” Brittany said with a bright smile, fingering his collar. “That actually sounds perfect.”

“Awesome.” He grinned and Brittany flashed a smile. “Miss S said that lights out were at ten, so sneak out after that, okay?”

She nodded and he stepped away from her, heading to the back of the line where Dave and Lauren were.

“Really, B?” Rachel asked with that disapproving look that Brittany hated so much.

_Well, so sorry, Rachel. Not all of us have the fortune to spend hours and hours with Santana and look at her openly and laugh with her. I need to do what I have to get over this._

“Whatever, Rach. It’s my life. I’ll fuck who I want to.”

She made the mistake of looking at Santana, who gave her a look of curiosity, like she was wondering if Brittany was referring to them. Which, of course, she wasn’t. She couldn’t trivialise that moment with Santana, no matter how hard she tried. It had been so perfect in every sense of the word. That was why she needed to forget about it. Forget about _her_.

Rachel sighed, breaking Brittany’s eye contact with Santana. They both looked away awkwardly.

“I’ve never stopped you from sleeping with jock after jock, B,” Rachel said. She grabbed Brittany’s hand and she couldn’t find it in her to pull away. What the hell was happening to her? The feelings that she’d admitted had whacked her out _completely_. She was becoming like… _emotional_ and shit. Was it normal?

“I just wish you’d try to find something more than physical,” Rachel said.

_What???_

Instead, Brittany scoffed. “I’m like a lizard. I need something warm beneath me in order to digest my food. That’s how I’m made and I’m quite happy with it. So thanks, Rach, but your concern is misplaced. If I wanted to do feelings and shit, I would. But I don’t.”

She kept Rachel’s gaze, even though she could feel Santana staring at her. She wondered if Santana could see right through her.

“Listen up, New Directions!”

_Thank fuck, Miss S. Perfect timing._

“Okay, so there was a little mix up with the rooms and we got three four-beds instead of six two-beds. Against my better judgement, I’ve decided to group our four troublemakers together.“

_Holy Jesus, no, you can’t. Please don’t do that to me!_

She watched helplessly as Miss S handed Santana a key card. Quinn had just joined and she and Rachel were squealing about a sleepover with everything. Santana was watching them and smiling.

 _Oh, shit. I’m so,_ so _screwed._

* * *

Santana glanced across the room from her position on her bed. She took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes tiredly. It was just after seven and they’d all come back from dinner. They’d decided to take turns showering before settling in for the night.

The room was pretty impressive. Four double beds and a big flat screen against the far wall.

“What if,” Quinn mused, “we take the mattresses from these two beds and put them on the floor?”

Santana tuned them out and went back to her book. The bathroom door opened and she unwittingly looked up to see Brittany walking across the room in a towel, her long wet hair dripping down her back. She swallowed.

 _Shit! She’s not supposed to still affect me like this! What the fuck is going on? My focus is on Rachel._ Rachel _. Brittany has done everything possible to throw it in my face that she’s straight and that sex means nothing to her. So get the fuck over yourself, Lopez!_

Santana took a silent breath and exhaled slowly. Of course, Brittany chose that moment to look over at her. It had been happening a lot of late. Santana found herself looking at Brittany, and often caught her looking back. She didn’t get it. Brittany was so adamant about throwing it in everyone’s face how straight she was and how she and Finn were going at it like bunnies at every chance. But those looks… It was like she was being transported back to that afternoon where Brittany had looked at her with turmoil, desire and something else. Something buried so deep that Santana hadn’t even been sure that she’d seen it. After everything, it was easier to believe that she’d imagined it.

She couldn’t pretend anymore, though. Brittany was looking at her like that. And it freaked her out. What the hell was going through her head? Was she planning another surprise attack?

Santana’s heart started racing at the thought. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not again. She wouldn’t ruin the little trust that she’d built with Rachel over the last two weeks for another… _whatever_ with Brittany. It didn’t matter how good it was guaranteed to be, Brittany had admitted that sex meant nothing.

_You know that she didn’t mean you._

Did she? She had her suspicions, of course. She was very perceptive, and she could read pretty clearly what had been in Brittany’s eyes. She’d tried to hide it, but Santana had glimpsed it – that desire. It was still there.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She was one hundred percent certain that she wouldn’t let anything like that happen with Brittany again. Not while she was still actively trying to convince Rachel to give them another chance.

_But what about in a few months? What if you and Rachel realise that you’re not meant to be?_

What then indeed? Santana frowned to herself and tried to focus on her book. The words were just letters. None of them were actually registering.

 _Look_ , she reasoned with her conscience, _the only way that anything will ever happen between me and Brittany is if she accepts who she is and doesn’t pretend that it doesn’t mean anything. And there’s no way that’s happening. So it’s pointless thinking about what if._

Content with her rationale, Santana settled back into the puffy pillows and lost herself in her book.

* * *

“You’re still going, B?” Rachel asked from her position on the floor.

Brittany glanced at Rachel from her suitcase where she was rummaging for her bikini.

“Well, we’re obviously not going to his room, but the pool closed half an hour ago so we’re going there instead.”

“Okay,” Rachel said simply, realising that it was pointless trying to convince her otherwise.

Brittany set her jaw and looked away from the three girls strewn across the two double mattresses on the floor. They were watching action movies – a refreshing change from romcoms that Brittany figured girls watched on sleepovers. As Santana and Rachel had motivated, w _ho doesn’t love a good action movie with a hot chick?_

She found her elusive swimsuit and headed for the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She took a deep breath and she pulled her top off and faltered. The scent that she’d immediately associated with Santana after inhaling it herself in their close encounters swirled around the bathroom. Santana had been the last one to shower and her shampoo and body wash still lingered in the air.

Brittany glanced around, even though she knew there wasn’t anyone there. She bit her lip and leaned towards the shower, taking another deep inhale.

“Oh, God,” she whispered.

 _Stupid move_.

Her legs trembled slightly and her heart started humming it was beating so fast. How could someone’s scent do that to her? It was just her smell… Her fresh, intoxicating, lovely scent.

Brittany quickly stripped and pulled her bikini on. She needed to get out of there before she did something really stupid. She grabbed her clothes and opened the door.

“Oh, sorry,” Santana mumbled, her eyes flickering down Brittany’s body. “Um, I just wanted to…”

“Uh, yeah,” Brittany said, feeling her body heat up about a thousand degrees with Santana’s eyes on her. She stepped aside. “All yours.”

“Thanks.” Santana stepped passed her quickly and Brittany got yet another whiff of that amazing scent.

_Fuck._

She crossed the room quickly and deposited her clothes on the bed. She was well aware of the slight stickiness between her legs. She grabbed her towel and looked at Quinn and Rachel. They were laying as relaxed as could be on the mattress, munching on the snacks that Quinn had gone out to procure.

_Procure? Really?_

Brittany blushed. Her conscience was making her blush. Ridiculous. Watching Santana had introduced her to her extensive vocabulary and way of speaking. What she’d heard before was just a tiny percentage. She really was a dork.

_A cute, adorable dork that you have the hots for._

Brittany shook her head and grabbed her towel and phone, heading for the door. As she reached for the handle, she heard the bathroom door open and Santana stepped out. She undid the pin in her hair and it fell down all around her face.

Cue accelerated heartbeat. She needed to go. Santana caught her gaze and it was all the incentive that Brittany needed to open the door and slip out, closing it behind her. She leaned against the door and shut her eyes. She needed to get over this. She couldn’t like Santana. She knew that she did – she could hardly ignore it anymore – but she _couldn’t_. She had to stop it.

What if someone found out? Thankfully, Blaine was as oblivious as ever. But if anyone ever knew…

Brittany took a breath, wrapped the towel around her waist – she was never shy of showing off her smokin’ bod – and headed to the stairs that led up to the roof.

“I was thinking you might have changed your mind,” Finn said with a grin as she dropped her towel at the edge of the pool.

She shrugged. “I said I’d be here, so here I am.” She stepped into the water and leaned against the wall. The way Finn’s eyes ran all over her body didn’t give her any kind of reaction close to Santana’s looking at her for a second in the bathroom. Brittany closed her eyes as he came closer and her mind unwittingly morphed his tall body into a much smaller one. One that had caramel skin and long dark hair with equally dark eyes. Brittany smiled as her mind’s version of Santana leaned in to kiss her neck. Those imaginary lips left a blaze of heat on her skin wherever they touched. Within minutes, Brittany was so ready for her orgasm.

“Fuck me now,” she growled.

“As you wish.”

His voice snapped the illusion for her and she blinked her eyes open rapidly. Before she could say or do anything, his hand pushed her bikini bottom aside and he thrust into her. The relief was instantaneous, but she felt something curl inside her, and it wasn’t the orgasmic kind.

_Just imagine…_

Brittany shut her eyes again as he started thrusting and she lifted her legs to wrap them around his waist. She let her mind wander back to that day, where her leg was around Santana’s waist and the unease in her stomach immediately lightened. At that moment, she didn’t care how wrong it was to think of Santana while Finn was fucking her, but she had to. Out of everything she was fighting, she was tired of fighting the reason behind her orgasms.

She imagined Santana whispering in her ear in that husky soft voice, moaning every now and then. She remembered how her skin had felt underneath her fingertips and arousal shot throughout her body at the memory.

“God, yes!” she grunted, getting closer and closer to that peak.

“You know you want to, Britt baby,” her Santana whispered in her ear, pulling their bodies flush together in that delicious way that Brittany remembered. “Come for me.”

And she did. Hard. Fucking hard. She felt herself being filled as she shook and she was abruptly drawn out of her imaginary world at the sound of Finn groaning in pleasure as he emptied himself inside her.

The pleasure dissipated quickly and for the first time, Brittany felt dirty. Sure, she used Finn – she was sure he knew that. But she felt like she’d used herself.

“I have to go,” she said suddenly, pushing him off her.

He’d been through the routine enough times to know not to argue. He let her go and Brittany swam to the edge of the pool, pulling herself onto the ladder quickly. She grabbed her towel and phone and didn’t bother drying herself off as she headed for the door.

She’d gone down four flights of stairs before dropping onto one and hugging her knees close to her. The tears came without warning and Brittany Pierce, Fierce Pierce, captain of the national championship-winning Cheerios, dancing goddess and top of McKinley totem pole, curled into a ball and sobbed.

* * *

Santana glanced at her phone. Brittany had been gone over an hour. Not that she was counting. Or cared. She didn’t. But that look…

Brittany had given her a look before leaving and she could’ve sworn that she was fighting between staying and going.

_But she went. So stop your whining._

Santana frowned. She just felt like something else was wrong. Brittany had done a one-eighty since she and Rachel had decided to give their friendship a shot, and as well as that was going, even Rachel seemed to be a little surprised at her best friend’s behaviour.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” she said quietly.

“Why?” Quinn said with a pout. “It’s your favourite part. ScarJo getting down with her bad self.”

They were watching _The Avengers_.

“Yeah, I won’t be long. Just feeling restless.”

“Is the great Santana Lopez feeling nervous for tomorrow?” Rachel teased.

 _No. I never get nervous before performing._ “I don’t know. Maybe,” she said instead.

_What was that about lying to Rachel?_

“Actually, I’m not nervous,” Santana corrected herself. “I just…I’m not tired, I guess.”

Quinn sat up, a look of concern crossing her face. “You want me to come with you?”

Santana shook her head. “You guys chill here and enjoy ScarJo getting down with her bad self. I’ll be back soon.”

“Kay,” Quinn and Rachel chorused, turning back to the TV.

Santana grabbed a key card, her phone and jacket. She was only in her pjs, which wouldn’t protect her from the decreasing temperatures. She started towards the elevator, then thought better of it – she didn’t feel like getting caught. It was almost midnight and she was definitely not supposed to be walking around. She remembered seeing a music hall on the second floor when they’d arrived. She walked down six flights of stairs and heard soft music playing as soon as she opened the door to the second floor. She slipped into the passage and crept up to the door. She pushed it open slightly and straightened when she saw Brittany, still in her bikini, free dancing to music playing from a stereo.

_“If tomorrow never comes, I would just want one thing. I would sell it to the stars and the sun. I would write it for the world to see.”_

She looked amazing. No, amazing was an understatement. Santana had obviously known that Brittany could dance, but this… It was something so much more. The moonlight caught her face and her breath caught in her throat.

Brittany was crying.

_“And it's you. The light changes when you're in the room. Oh, it's you.”  
_

Was it the music? Was it her dancing? What was making her cry like that? The song ended, but immediately started again and Brittany continued her free dancing as though she was used to it. Santana wondered how long she’d been dancing to the same song on loop. _  
_

_"If tomorrow never comes, I would want just one wish, to kiss your quiet mouth and trace the steps with my fingertips.”  
_

Santana knew the song. Well. Maybe it was a song about Finn. Maybe something had happened between them and Brittany was sad for some reason. It didn’t have to be something…more. It didn’t have to mean something else.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood at the door watching Brittany. She was just lost in whatever emotions Brittany was feeling. Brittany was putting everything into the dancing, kind of like Santana did with her singing. The lyrics played over in her head and it became more difficult for her to ignore. At the exact second that she realised that there was no mistake that Brittany had chosen _that_ song and who exactly it was about, Brittany looked up and their eyes met.

It was like time stopped.

“Santana,” Brittany whispered, slowly standing up straight.

She may have been across the room, but Santana heard it as though Brittany had whispered it in her ear. It made her shiver. Brittany took a step towards her and Santana instinctively took one back. She couldn’t again…they couldn’t…

“No, wait,” Brittany pleaded, taking a few more steps.

Santana just shook her head and stumbled through the door, heading blindly down the passage. Her head was swimming with the conflict of needing to go and wanting to stay.

_Why does this always happen with Brittany? Why can’t it be a simple ‘you’re straight, I’m gay, it’ll never work. Move on’? Why do I have to continuously feel this inexplicable pull to-_

She didn’t finish her thought because someone grabbed her arm, halting her getaway. She was pushed up against the wall and Brittany’s virtually naked body was pressed up against hers. Within seconds, so were her lips.

* * *

She knew it was stupid. But she didn’t care. Why else would Santana, of all people, manage to find her in a hotel with hundreds of rooms?

Brittany didn’t believe in fate, but she believed in the connection she had with Santana, however fucked up it was. And she knew that Santana felt it too because she was kissing her back, desperately so. Her warm hands were on her back, spreading heat throughout her body. _This_ was what it was supposed to feel like. Her imagination had done a good job, but nothing beat actually kissing Santana.

Their tongues played with each other perfectly. She could feel the moans in the back of her throat, of both of their throats. The lyrics of the song she’d been dancing to for what felt like hours came back to play inside her head.

_“If tomorrow never comes, I would want just one wish, to kiss your quiet mouth and trace the steps with my fingertips.”_

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to her and it wasn’t fair to Santana. She knew it was a bad idea to be kissing her the way she was and to let Santana kiss her back the way she was. But it just felt so…

Right.

Few things in Brittany’s life made sense. At that moment, kissing Santana made the most sense out of anything. She wanted her. She wanted Santana. And not just in a physical way. She wanted all of her. All the time.

But she couldn’t. And the thought almost broke her heart.

What did make it feel like it was broken, though, was Santana pushing her away suddenly.

“No, no, no, we can’t. I can’t. Not again. I…” She shook her head violently and slipped away from Brittany before she could grab her.

Brittany watched as Santana ran down the passage and disappeared around the corner, unable to will herself to run after her.

It took Brittany another hour to finally head back up to her room. She stood outside the door, partly because she had forgotten to take a key card and partly because she knew Santana was probably on the other side of that door. Her body still hummed from the kisses. She briefly considered going somewhere else to try and get _some_ sleep.

_Who am I kidding? There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight. Especially with her so close to me._

She felt like crying again. Why did she have to like Santana so much and not be able to do anything about it unless it was some secret, forbidden, stolen rendezvous? Why couldn’t she just-

_No. I can’t. I can’t ever be that._

She typed Rachel a message, hoping that she was still up and would hear it. It was one-thirty in the morning, after all, and they had rehearsal at eight.

The door eventually opened and Rachel looked at her blearily.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I forgot a key card.”

“Hmm,” Rachel mumbled, opening the door wider and letting Brittany slip through. She was still in her bikini, her towel hanging in her hand.

“You okay?” Rachel asked in a husky whisper laden with sleep.

“Yeah, I’m totally fine,” Brittany replied in a low voice. “Go to sleep, Rach. Sorry I woke you.”

She sat on the edge of her bed and saw, in the darkness, her best friend flop down next to two shapes on the mattress. She stared at Santana’s covered body and hated how she felt tears bubbling up again when Rachel snuggled against her.

_That will never be me._

She just had to let it go. She couldn’t ever be with Santana. It wasn’t possible. She deserved happiness and if Rachel could give her that happiness, then she’d have to step back and let them be.

_How are you going to manage seeing them together all the time?_

She’d manage. If she couldn’t then…maybe it would be best if she stopped being friends with Rachel. The thought of that hurt so much. Rachel was her only friend, but wasn’t being a good friend allowing them to be happy, even if she suffered?

Brittany pulled her bikini off and pulled the covers up and over her head. She grabbed a pillow and held it close, burying her face into it and letting the tears fall once more. She had no one to blame but herself.

* * *

Her eyes flew open and she tried to calm her rapid breathing. Her chest was tight, her face was dry and her eyes burned.

She didn’t even want to know what she looked like after crying herself to sleep. She pulled her covers down and blinked at the natural light filtering through the partially closed curtains. Brittany sat up and made the mistake of looking at the sleeping bodies on the floor a few feet away from her. Quinn was passed out on one side, laying on her stomach and Santana was next to her, laying on her side facing Quinn.

The real kicker, what made her gut seize in pain was Rachel sleeping behind Santana. Her arm was wrapped around Santana’s waist, her hand resting against naked skin underneath Santana’s tank top. Santana’s hand was on top of Rachel’s, as though she was totally okay with how they were positioned.

_She could be… You don’t know that._

Brittany reached for her phone that she’d left at the foot of her bed and checked the time. Six-thirty. She stood up, grabbed her towel and headed for the bathroom. She shut the door, locked it and turned on the hot water in the shower. She stared at her reflection in the mirror while the steam generated by the scalding water slowly fogged up the bathroom.

“It’s done,” she finally said softly. “You need to forget about Santana. You need to forget about everything that has happened between you. It’s for the best. It’s the best for her, for Rachel, for you – for _everyone_.”

She knew it wasn’t going to be easy to forget the girl that had invaded every part of her body and seemed to not want to leave. She’d all but forgotten about their fight, about the things she’d said and she knew that it was unhealthy. She’d been a bitch and Santana had stayed away. So in order for her to keep her sanity, she’d have to become that person again.

She was going to be the biggest bitch to Santana Lopez, even if it killed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh. We're getting there...sorry.
> 
> Join the Brittana Discord! :) https://discord.gg/WUpexmr


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close....

Santana jerked awake and her heart started pounding. The remnants of whatever dream she’d been jolted out of faded very quickly and she squeezed her eyes shut at the vanishing memory of blonde hair.

She felt a weight across her stomach and glanced down, almost fearful of seeing a pale arm. She breathed a sigh of relief when the skin tone was slightly more tanned. Rachel’s hand was against her stomach underneath her shirt and she knew that Rachel was still fast asleep. She rested her head on her pillow and let her body relax. She could feel Rachel’s even breaths against her neck and it made her smile a bit. This was where she wanted to be. She wanted to be cuddling with Rachel and not…not…

_Not making out with Brittany. Again._

Santana swallowed. She knew that it had been a mistake. Another one. She hadn’t heard Brittany coming back to the room so she wasn’t even sure if she had come back. Why couldn’t she control her inexplicable desire for Brittany? Why couldn’t Brittany? Whatever was between them was something pretty fucking powerful and Santana had no idea what to do about it. She didn’t even _like_ Brittany. She didn’t. She thought she was selfish, arrogant and a total bitch. But when it was just them, when she got to see the _real_ Brittany that no one else saw, probably not even Rachel, she couldn’t help but be pulled towards her both physically and emotionally.

Why, though?

_Why Brittany? Why now?_

Why did what she what she felt with Rachel pale in comparison to the moments she’d had with Brittany? She wanted Rachel. She _didn’t_ want Brittany.

She didn’t…

The bathroom door opened and she automatically closed her eyes, not wanting to deal with Brittany. Ever, if she could swing it. She doubted the probability of that happening, though. She could hear Brittany rummaging around by her bed. She felt like it was still really early and hopes that Brittany was planning on heading out so that they could avoid any guaranteed awkwardness while Quinn and Rachel will still in their candy-induced comas.

Also, she’d come out of the bathroom. The possibility of her being naked almost made Santana’s eyes jump open, but she squeezed them tightly closed, subtly turning her head into her pillow. The movement caused Rachel to stir slightly. Her hand moved from under Santana’s shirt and found her arm, tugging it gently. She smiled. Rachel had always denied doing this, but Santana kind of loved it. She acquiesced and turned around, Rachel doing the same. Santana draped her arm over Rachel waist and snuggled into her, hiding her face in her thick hair. At least Brittany couldn’t see that she was awake.

The door closing suddenly caused Rachel to jump awake and Santana could hear Quinn groan from the mattress next to her.

“Wassat?” Rachel mumbled, grabbing Santana’s hand and linking their fingers.

“I think Brittany left,” she mumbled back.

“Time?”

“Early. Set my alarm. Go back to sleep, Rach.”

“Kay.” She promptly relaxed in Santana’s embrace and her breathing evened out quickly.

Santana lay there contentedly. This was where she was meant to be. Rachel cared about her, cared about how she felt. Even though she’d fucked up, she wanted to try and make things better with them. She wanted to _try_.

Unlike Brittany, who apparently only needed Santana when she was horny.

_Bullshit. You know that isn’t true._

Santana bit her lip. She needed it to be true. The alternative was scary as shit. If Brittany had feelings for her, then she had a huge fucking disaster on her hands.

* * *

Brittany returned to the room an hour after leaving. She’d made a split decision after seeing Santana spooning Rachel to get out. Do something. That something had turned into a run. A really long and tiring run. Her lack of sleep was catching up to her. It didn’t matter. They had the competition in a few hours and they would kill it, win and head back to Lima where she could safely hide away in her room until Monday.

All she had to do for the next few hours was remember that Santana was the enemy and that she was Head Bitch in Charge. She needed to impose that notion upon Santana once more. It was the only way she’d survive.

She opened her hotel room door and the first thing she saw was Santana, about to head out. She kept her cool and just breezed past her, heading for the bathroom. She slammed the door a little harder than she meant to, but perhaps she had meant to…

_I can’t do this. How am I supposed to pretend that I hate her when all I want to do is kiss her again? And…other things…_

It didn’t matter. Her feelings didn’t matter. They _couldn’t_ matter. She had to ignore the fact that she could feel when Santana walked into the room because her skin started to prickle with anticipation. She had to ignore how her stomach erupted into a rabble of butterflies every time she saw those gorgeous brown eyes – the brown eyes she remembered staring at her with passion when she’d fucked her into oblivion. She had to forget how _no one_ had ever made her feel so incredibly sated and exhausted and thoroughly pleased. And how no one else would probably ever could. She had to forget how it felt to kiss her, how it felt to _feel_ her. She had to forget how much she wanted Santana. She had to forget everything.

After a quick shower, she exited the bathroom and changed into a pair of sweats and tank top. She didn’t care that she’d dropped her towel and was naked before pulling on her underwear. She had to channel the Brittany that everyone knew, the Brittany that everyone knew and feared. The Brittany that Santana hated.

She had to be the selfish Brittany that she knew would drive Santana away.

* * *

After the final rehearsal, Tina helped everyone with their costumes. She was actually pretty damn handy with a pair of scissors, some thread, fabric and a sewing machine. It helped that her father was a multi-millionaire designer.

“You look ravishing, darling,” Quinn said in a faux-posh accent, curtsying to Santana. They were waiting in the green room, ready to go one when they were called.

Santana and returned the gesture. “And you, Miss Fabray are truly a vision in white.”

“I feel weird,” Rachel muttered, swishing the skirt of her white dress.

“Is it because you’re wearing white?” Santana teased.

Rachel looked up and smirked. “Well, if that were the case, I’m not sure why you’re so comfortable wearing it. We both know that you’re far from innocent.”

Santana grinned. It felt like things were getting better by the hour between her and Rachel.

“Okay, I’m gonna go over here because this sexual tension is just nauseating,” Quinn said, disappearing.

Rachel laughed and Santana just smiled. She stepped closer to Rachel. “So, I know that you invited Quinn and I to dinner when we get back home, but I was thinking…”

“Yeah?” Rachel asked quietly, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I was wondering what you’d say if I asked you to dinner. Just you. And just me.”

“You mean like a date?” Rachel’s smile grew.

Santana bit her lips and nodded.

Rachel stepped closer and took her hands. “I think that I would agree to that.”

“Really?”

“As long as we don’t go to Breadstix.”

Santana rolled her eyes and smirked. “Deal.”

“Great.” Rachel stood her tiptoes and kissed Santana’s cheek. “Text me.”

She twirled away to where Brittany was standing and Santana couldn’t help but do a little victory jiggle.

“I take it things are going well?” Quinn asked, linking their arms.

“We have a date!” Santana said excitedly.

Quinn grinned. “That’s awesome, San. I’m really happy for you guys.”

“Yeah. I’m so not fucking things up this time.”

“I know you won’t.” Quinn pulled her in for a hug and Santana’s eyes lifted to meet Brittany’s. She was nodding at what Rachel was saying and her eyes were narrowed in a glare. Santana frowned. Was she pissed because she’d run away after kissing her the previous night? That would explain her cold demeanour that entire morning. She’d barely acknowledged Santana except to tell her to stop lazing about and ‘fucking dance like she wants to win’.

“Five minutes, New Directions!”

Miss S gathered them together and they stood in a circle, holding hands. Santana was between Rachel and Quinn and Brittany was on the other side of Rachel.

“Guys and girls, no matter what happens, I’m so proud of each of you. You’ve worked hard to get here and I have no doubt that you will give everything you have on that stage. Good luck.”

And then she was gone.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you guys, but I’m pretty set on winning this thing,” Santana said and she got a small hum of agreement from the circle. “We know our words and our steps. Let’s work together and give that crowd a fucking show they won’t forget. It’s been too long since we’ve had some new silverware in our trophy cabinet.”

She stuck her hand in and everybody followed suit.

“Aaaaamazing!”

* * *

“Holy shit! That was awesome!” Rachel said with a big grin on her face, collapsing into her seat.

“Pretty addictive, huh?” Santana agreed, sitting down next to her.

“Totally.” She leaned her head on Santana’s shoulder. “I mean, I knew we’d win, especially after the standing ovation we got for _Mad World_ , but it was still like will we or won’t we?”

Santana chuckled. “Yeah, it sucked last year when we knew that we weren’t going to win. Just standing there waiting for the inevitable.”

“What happened?” Rachel murmured.

“One of our members, Suzy Pepper, threw up on stage. She was a freshman and a total nervous wreck. She had a good singing voice, though. She just couldn’t handle it.”

Rachel was quiet.

“What?” Santana pressed.

“Part of our initiation into the Cheerios last year was picking a freshman and torturing them for the first semester. We, uh, got bonus points or whatever of we got them to transfer.”

“And you got Suzy Pepper?” Santana wasn’t sure what to make of the new information.

“Uh, no. Britt did. She, uh, was pretty relentless.”

“Hmmm.” Santana set her jaw. She knew Brittany was a bully, but her reasoning, once again, brought so many questions about Brittany to Santana’s mind. Why was she so determined to be a person that Santana _knew_ she wasn’t? Or was the person that Santana saw the fake one? She struggled to convince herself of that. Whatever Brittany and she experienced together was real. It was scarily more real than anything she’d ever experienced.

_You can’t think like that anymore. You have a date with Rachel. You’re going to get your girlfriend back._

Santana took a breath and it caused Rachel to lift her head. “Does that make you mad?” she whispered.

She turned and met Rachel’s eyes. “Before, it would have. I can’t change what’s in the past. I’d love to be able to tell Brittany that she should find out where Suzy Pepper transferred to and apologise. What she did wasn’t cool, regardless of why she did it. Shit like that scars people. She just doesn’t seem to realise that.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s like turning water into ink with her.” She sighed.

“Who did you have to torture?” Santana asked.

“Um, you don’t remember?”

Santana arched an eyebrow.

“Um, you.”

“Well, not sure how you became second in command because clearly you didn’t scare me off,” Santana teased.

Rachel chuckled and slapped her arm. “Shut up. You were a hard nut to crack.”

“Wanky.”

“Hey, that’s my word!” Rachel pouted.

“I think it sounds better coming from me.”

“Well, a lot of things sound better coming from you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Hmmm.”

“Like what?”

“My name.”

Santana’s eyes widened and she shifted as her underwear became a little moist. “That’s not fair, Rach. Friends aren’t supposed to say stuff like that.”

“Well, friends aren’t supposed to go on dates either. But we are.”

“Okay… So what does that mean?”

Rachel shrugged. “Let’s not label anything just yet. Overthinking is way overrated. Let’s just see what happens.”

Santana nodded. “Okay. So, since we’re not labelling anything, am I allowed to tell you how sexy you looked on stage today?”

Rachel grinned. “As long as I get to tell you how part of me kinda wished I could’ve had you in the green room after we won.”

Santana let out a pained whimper and stood up. Rachel grabbed her hand.

“Seriously, Rach. There’s no way I can survive sitting next to you when all I want to do is fuck you on this seat right now.”

Rachel smirked. “Well, I’m sure the gleeks wouldn’t mind a show.”

“Yes, we would!” Mercedes chirped from the seat behind them. “You two better keep it in your pants. I don’t need to be scarred for life, thank you very much.”

Santana groaned and reluctantly sat back down again.

“Can I kiss you?” Rachel whispered.

She didn’t wait for a response, just leaned in and captured Rachel’s waiting lips. It was better than she remembered. She hated herself for thinking about how it still didn’t compare to-

“Are you fucking serious?” Brittany snapped. “You couldn’t wait until we got back to Lima?”

Rachel broke away from Santana and frowned at Brittany. “What the hell has your panties in a bunch?”

“More like who has yours in a bunch. And I think it’s pretty obvious that Santana has them pulled pretty tight.”

“Okay, hold on!” Santana said heatedly, spinning around and facing Brittany. “I don’t care what the fuck your problem is, but I thought we were past all this.”

“Well, maybe it’s a little more difficult for some of us to forget the shit that you pulled.”

“The shit that _I_ pulled? Are you listening to yourself right now?”

“What the hell is going on?” Quinn said loudly, standing at the front of the bus, her hands on her hips.

“Wonder Barbie decided to bring bitchy back,” Santana muttered, her eyes shooting daggers at Brittany.

“Just wait until we’re back in the real world, Lupus. You’ll be reminded very quickly of how things work.” Brittany moved to the back seat and stretched out across it. Not that anyone would have attempted sitting near her.

“What the hell was that?” Rachel wondered to herself, her frown etched deeply into her forehead. “I thought everything was fine.”

“All good things must come to an end,” Santana mused quietly. “I think we need to face facts that Brittany has issues and she probably feels like being a bitch is the only way to deal with her problems.”

‘Don’t fucking psycho-analyse me, Lupus!” Brittany yelled from the back. “I can still hear the little cogs in your tiny brain turning.”

“Seriously, what the hell happened?” Quinn hissed, taking the seat opposite the aisle.

“We were kissing and she flipped out,” Santana whispered, glancing down the aisle and looking at Brittany’s torso. It was all she could see of her as she took up the back four seats.

“Staring at me won’t make me spontaneously combust either, trust me. I’ve tried it, but you’re unfortunately still breathing.”

Rachel wrapped both hands around Santana’s waist as she saw red and immediately stood up to give Brittany a piece of her mind.

“Please, don’t. You’re better than this,” Rachel whispered against her neck.

Santana was shaking with anger. She hated that Brittany always elicited such a passionate response from her, no matter if it was rooted in anger or desire. Maybe Brittany’s change of heart or whatever was for the best. It would break whatever _thing_ was between them. If all she thought about was fighting Brittany with words, she wouldn’t have to think about what her next move was going to be. She wouldn’t have to worry about her trying anything with her again. Right?

_Doubtful._

Rachel kneeled on her seat. “Announcement! Victory party at my house tonight! Libations shall be provided for everyone’s taste and we’re going to celebrate kicking Sectionals’ ass!”

She sat down and pulled Santana close to her. “Just forget about Brittany. Her mood swings are completely normal. Tonight, you’re all mine.”

Santana sighed and leaned against Rachel, listening to her chatter for the rest of the ride home.

* * *

By the time she arrived at Rachel’s house, the party was in full swing. There were a few non-Glee people, but it wasn’t anything like Brittany or Artie’s parties. Santana kind of preferred it. She headed down to the basement where she knew Rachel would have the bar and karaoke set up. When she’d found out that Rachel’s dads were big on karaoke, she’d been surprised. It certainly explained her musical talent, but it was just very odd that a Cheerio would be so into something that the ‘top dogs’ considered completely lame.

Then again, Santana had found out very quickly that Rachel wasn’t as shallow as the rest of the so-called upperclassmen.

“Hi!” Rachel squealed, grabbing her hands as she descended the stairs. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Santana smiled and kissed her cheek. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“You look totally hot,” Rachel declared. “I really love your geek chic.”

Santana laughed. She was wearing her standard tight jeans, Chucks and had chosen a green Hulk shirt for the celebratory occasion. She’d also forgone her contacts and had her glasses on. Wearing her contacts the whole day for the competition had dried her eyes out.

“No one could possibly hold a candle to you, Cherry Berry.” She stepped back and let her eyes roam appreciatively over Rachel’s tight strapless black dress. “I’m loving those heels.”

“Hmmm.” Rachel stepped closer and Santana wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She moved next to Santana’s ear and whispered, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

“Oh, fuck,” Santana hissed, her fingers digging into Rachel’s dress.

“Later. Maybe. If you’re good.” Rachel sent her a wink and sauntered away.

“So I’m guessing you’ll be staying over then?” Quinn chuckled, appearing next to her with a cup.

Santana took it and downed it. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her eyes still on Rachel. “I mean, I want to. Fuck, I want to. But I don’t want to mess things up by moving too fast.”

“You think sleeping with your ex that you’re almost back together with will ruin that?” Quinn asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Santana groaned. “I need another drink.”

“Hey, hey, Lopez!’ David cheered.

“Who allowed you to play barman?” Santana teased, handing him her empty cup.

“I did,” Quinn said. “He showed up drunk so I put him behind here and he’s in charge of pouring the drinks.”

“She keeps water-gunning me if I sneak a sip.” David pouted.

Santana threw her head back and laughed. “Quinnie, you are my hero.” She held up her hand for a high five and Quinn met it with a grin.

“So what are you having?” David asked, clapping his meaty hands together.

“Long Island Iced Tea,” Santana said immediately.

“Whoa, hitting the hard stuff, are we?”

Santana shrugged. “We’re celebrating.”

She stood next to the bar with her drink, chatting with Quinn while the latter sporadically squirted water from a concealed water pistol at the unsuspecting bartender. It was highly entertaining. She felt two arms wrap around her waist.

“Come sing with me,” Rachel murmured in her ear.

“Be right back,” she said to Quinn, allowing Rachel to pull her onto the stage.

Rachel enthusiastically pressed a button and handed a mic to Santana. She grinned. “You think you can handle singing with me, Berry?”

“The question is, Lopez,” Rachel replied as the music started up, “ _Don’t you want me, baby?_ ”

Santana’s eyes flashed as they effortlessly worked through the song.

_“Don't, don't you want me? You know I don't believe it when you say that you don't need me.”_

By the time their song had ended, they were staring heavily at each other. Santana was literally itching to grab Rachel and drag her somewhere to do unnameable things to her glorious body.

The applause of the crowd brought her back to reality and she took a deep breath. She handed Rachel the mic back and turned back to finish her much-needed drink. Just as she’d stepped off the stage, she found herself pushed against the wall and a feisty Rachel Berry in her arms. She reciprocated the kiss enthusiastically, ignoring the cat calls from the crowd.

“You’d better be in my bedroom in five minutes, Lopez,” Rachel said in a low voice.

Santana swallowed. “Are you sure, Rachel?”

“I’m sure that I’ve wanted you ever sine I kissed you in the hallway.”

Santana didn’t respond, just looked in her eyes, trying to decide if it really was a good idea. Rachel bit her lip and dropped her gaze.

“I want you, Santana. And I’m not making this decision lightly. I have considered the possibilities and repercussions, but at the end of the day, I still want you.”

Santana found herself nodding. “Okay.” She released Rachel, who headed up the stairs, sending Santana a grin and cocked her head before disappearing from view.

“Here.” Quinn handed her the rest of her drink. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Santana shrugged and took a big sip. “She said that she knew what the repercussions would be. If Rachel’s willing to trust me again, then I’m not going to make her think that I doubt that.”

“Okay.” She didn’t sound like she agreed.

“Don’t worry, Quinnie. I’m a big girl. I’ve learned from my mistakes.” A flash of the insanely pleasurable assault she’d received the previous night flickered through her mind and she quickly shook it away. “I’m not going to do anything that stupid again.”

Quinn nodded. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then.”

Santana kissed her best friend’s cheek and smiled. “Love you, Quinnie.”

“Love you too, San. Be careful,” she couldn’t help by add as a warning.

“I will,” Santana replied genuinely.

She finished her drink and tossed the cup at David with a wink and took the steps two at a time. She reached the front entrance and grinned at Rachel waiting for her at the top of the stairs that led to her bedroom. She climbed them, taking two at a time again. Rachel jumped into her arms and Santana’s arms secured her ass. Their lips fused together as Santana backtracked towards Rachel’s room. Rachel grunted as Santana pushed her against the wall, tugging her dress down so that she could latch her lips onto her nipples.

“Oh, fuck,” Rachel moaned loudly, her hands fisting Santana’s hair. “San, you need to get me naked and fucked right now,” she growled.

“My pleasure,” she replied with a smirk, carrying Rachel into her bedroom and closing the door.

Neither girl saw Brittany standing at the other end of the second-floor hallway, staring at the space where they’d been, blinking away the tears that were escaping down her face.

* * *

A loud crash brought Brittany out of her drunken slumber. She cracked an eye open, but couldn’t see anything due to her hair draped across her face. She tried to lift her right arm to brush it away, but it was pinned down. She frowned and hurriedly wiped her hair away from her eyes with her left hand instead. She instantly grimaced at the light shining through a window directly onto her face.

“Fuck,” she moaned. Her voice came out broken and hoarse. Her head felt like it was splitting open.

She glanced down and groaned inwardly. She was in her underwear and had two guys passed out on either side of her.

_What the fuck even happened last night?_

She knew that she was at Rachel’s. She’d had enough drunken sleepovers to recognise the Berry’s living room.

_Shit, did I have sex in Rachel’s living room? So classy._

She tried to swallow, but her throat just felt like dried cotton wool. She managed to fumble over the unconscious body, wrenching her right arm free and fell on the carpeted floor. They were two football guys. She didn’t even remember seeing them at the party. Shakily getting to her feet, Brittany stumbled to the ground floor bathroom. She turned on the faucet and splashed some water on her face. She was definitely still drunk. The hangover hadn’t even started yet. She groaned at the realisation that early morning Cheerios practice the next day was going to be a bitch to get through. She didn’t care about skipping school or Glee, but she had to show face at practice.

_First mission. Find clothes._

She stepped over bodies – way more bodies than what had been at the party when she’d arrived – and headed down to the basement. She managed to find her shorts and boots, but her shirt still eluded her.

_Whatever. I’ll just grab one of Rachel’s._

She stopped by the kitchen and downed two glasses of water and munched a candy bar before heading up the stairs to Rachel’s room. The door was ajar and she didn’t think twice about pushing it open. She froze at the sight she was met with.

Rachel was passed out on her stomach, the covers barely covering her ass. Santana was asleep, her head resting on Rachel’s back. The sheet also barely covered her nakedness. Brittany blinked rapidly and saw a pair of handcuffs attached to Santana’s wrist as her hand rested on Rachel’s ass.

Brittany staggered back, an unbelievable pain exploding in her chest. She couldn’t breathe and felt like she was going to have a heart attack or something. She clutched the bannister and fell to the ground, shaking her head to try and stop the impending tears coming. She remembered now. She remembered seeing them together. She remembered downing countless shots. She remembered calling Finn and telling him to bring the entire team over. She remembered dancing and drinking and then nothing.

Most importantly, she remembered forgetting about what she’d seen. Now it was all she could think about. Seeing every available inch of Santana’s smooth skin. It was torture knowing how soft that skin was. How it felt underneath her fingertips.

“No!” she choked out, pushing herself away from the bannister and half-crawling, half-sliding to the staircase. She forced herself up and stumbled down, heading back down to the basement. She found a bottle of tequila with about a quarter left and downed it. Her insides burned but she didn’t stop. All too soon, the bottle was finished.

“No!” Brittany cried, throwing the bottle onto the carpeted floor. “I need to forget,” she mumbled. She rummaged behind the bar and came up with an almost full bottle of vodka. “Finally.” She screwed the cap off and slid to the ground, letting the clear liquid slip down her throat. It still burned, but after finishing half the bottle, Brittany let the haziness overwhelm her and succumbed to the darkness.

* * *

Quinn leaned against the stairs and frowned as she watched Brittany slip into unconsciousness. She’d followed her from upstairs. She’d seen her back away from Rachel’s room like she’d seen a ghost. Even more confusing, she’d seen Brittany crying and clutching her chest. Quinn didn’t often jump to conclusions, but it was very clear to her that Santana meant a lot more to Brittany than she was letting on and that whatever had happened between them was way bigger than Santana had let on.

If she even knew.

Quinn figured that no one knew about Brittany’s feelings. She also wagered that Brittany herself was probably fighting them, hence the drinking herself into oblivion. She bit her lip as she watched the Head Cheerio, the supposed top bitch of McKinley and wondered if it was all just an act. She wondered if Brittany’s feelings for Santana were what was making her act out so much. Maybe she was scared.

That didn’t make sense, though. Rachel was gay and they’d been friends for as long as her and Santana. And, hello, she’d slept with Santana. Part of her had to acknowledge the feelings.

Then again, Brittany was kind of a slut. The previous night had only fuelled that fire even more. She remembered seeing her in the living room with two guys. She’d turned around pretty quickly, but Brittany had seemed totally out of it, like she wasn’t even there.

Was Brittany running away from something? Her feelings? Her responsibilities as Head Cheerio? It sure seemed that way. And she was using alcohol and sex as tools to help her run away.

Quinn sighed and picked up Brittany’s shirt from underneath the sofa. She remembered seeing her throw it there during a very public striptease. She knelt in front of the apparent head of the school and searched her slumbering face. Her make-up was smudged and there were tear tracks down her cheeks. She sighed. Part of her wanted so desperately to walk away and leave her to deal with her own mess.

But the other part of her sympathised. Brittany seemed to be confused and she was just lashing out in the only way she knew how to try and deny whatever she was feeling. Quinn knew about that, to an extent. She also knew about the pressures of being the perfect daughter. After her miscarriage, her mother had really tightened the reins on her extra-curricular activities. She had a curfew of eight pm and her father had installed a GPS tracker in her car so that she knew where she was at all times. Quinn felt like a prisoner in her own house.

Santana didn’t know any of it because Quinn didn’t want to tell her. She would just get super protective of her and either try to convince Quinn to live with her or quit everything. Which she didn’t want to do, not really. She enjoyed dancing and drama classes. She just didn’t enjoy how determined her mother was that she make a career out of it.

Brittany slumped over in front of her and Quinn quickly caught her. She pried the half-empty bottle out of her hands and put it back on the bar. She rested Brittany uncomfortably on her side and stood up, heading over to the sofa and clearing it of empty cups and a few articles of clothing. She headed back to Brittany and, after a lot of effort, managed to drag Brittany onto the couch. There was a blanket draped over the back that she used to cover her.

“The world is a scary place,” she murmured, looking at Brittany’s sleeping face. “We have to deal with a lot of things that we don’t think we can handle. If this year has taught me anything so far, it’s that anything is possible if you believe that you can deal with the consequences. It’s not actually about what anyone else thinks of you. It’s all about whether, at the end of the day, you can live with your decisions.”

She folded Brittany’s shirt up and put it next to her head.

“I want to say that I’m here if you want to talk to someone, but I know that you’re scared. You’re so scared of…something that you’re doing everything you can to run away from it. At some point, you’re going to have to stop running, Brittany. You can’t run forever.”

She stood up and headed up the stairs, but not before she heard a mumbled, “I can try.”

* * *

Santana twisted her body and stretched as she awoke. Something clinked on her wrist and she peeked through one eye at the handcuffs that were still attached. She smiled and rolled off Rachel, scooting up the bed where she was still passed out. Santana just watched the beautiful girl for a few moments, her eyes wandering from her face down to her barely concealed body and shivered deliciously at the memories of their coital bliss the night before.

She rolled over and bent over the end of the bed to grab her jeans, pulling out her phone and checking the time.

 _Shit_.

She had several missed calls from her mom. She’d never told her that she was staying at Rachel’s. After four intense rounds, they’d passed out from exhaustion. Sending her mom a message hadn’t exactly been at the forefront of her mind. She quickly typed an apology text, saying that she was okay and she’d stayed at Rachel’s.

She saw a message from Quinn that had been sent the previous night close to midnight. Not that she could be certain, but that was probably around her fourth orgasm with Rachel.

_Things are getting a little crazy down here. Brittany invited all the jocks over. The gleeks have gone home. I doubt you two will be gracing us with your presence, so I’m staying low just in case things get bad._

Santana bit her lip guiltily. Neither of them had much love for the jocks and Cheerios – well, she did absolutely enjoy the company of one particular Cheerio. She glanced at Rachel, who hadn’t moved, but the even rise and fall of her back showed that she was just deeply asleep. Santana was pretty sure that Rachel could sleep through anything if she was tired enough.

And she’d definitely tired her out.

_You are a gem. Are you still here? I want to help Rachel clean up. When she wakes up, of course._

Quinn replied almost immediately.

_Yeah, I’m trying to start on the clean-up, but I don’t really know where anything is._

Santana sat up, replying that she’d be right down. She grabbed her clothes and pulled them on. She grabbed a piece of paper and pen from Rachel’s desk and wrote a quick note. She leaned across the bed and gave her two kisses on the cheek.

She raked her fingers through her hair and grabbed a hair tie from Rachel’s dresser and tied her hair up in a messy bun. At least it was out of her face. She headed downstairs and pulled a face at the amount of unconscious bodies that littered the space between the living room and kitchen.

“Damn,” she murmured, heading into the kitchen.

“Morning,” Quinn greeted quietly.

“Hey. You okay?”

Quinn nodded, but Santana could see that there was something on her mind. She started her portion of the clean-up by getting rid of the unconscious bodies. The two boys in the living room were naked and Santana could see a few used condoms laying around.

_So gross._

A thought entered her mind and she grinned.

“Well, boys, I hope you enjoyed your night of passion. Looks like you tired each other out.”

They looked at her through bleary eyes and she smirked. “Two naked boys, _alone_. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Stupid dyke. We were with Brittany,” one of them growled, pulling his pants on.

Santana’s smile froze on her face. “Well, where is she?”

“Not here, obviously,” one of the meatheads muttered.

“I’m not fucking around, asshole. Where is she?”

“She’s fine,” Quinn said, stepping into the room.

Santana turned around and saw that Quinn had a blank expression on her face. But she had no reason to doubt her, so she sent the douchebags the infamous Lopez glare and they left.

“I know something’s churning in your head,” Santana said quietly, resting a hand on Quinn’s folded arms. “I hope that when you’re ready, you’ll come and talk to me?”

She just nodded and Santana knew it was the best she was going to get. She continued cleaning the living room and kitchen while Quinn tackled the basement. Rachel came down about two hours later, just as they were finishing up, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and shorts.

“Why’d you clean up?” she asked in surprise.

“Um, because it’s polite?” Santana asked, a little worried that those repercussions were about to kick in.

“You guys didn’t have to do that,” Rachel said, walking up to Santana and kissing her. She immediately relaxed.

“It’s fine. We needed to get rid of the stragglers.”

“Stragglers?” Rachel chucked and grabbed a banana. “Never pegged the gleeks to be such party animals.”

“Um, no it was the football guys.”

Rachel frowned, but the realisation crossed her features and she sighed. “Brittany?”

Santana nodded.

“Is she okay?”

Santana shrugged. “Quinn said she was. I haven’t seen her. But then again, I’ve pretty much been up here, cleaning up after her…antics.”

“Oh, God.” Rachel pulled a face. “What did she defile?”

“Um, your sofa? And possibly other parts of your living room.”

“Ugh. I don’t know what her issue is. It seems that she enjoys going even more crazy when you’re with me.”

Santana turned to the sink and started running some water so that Rachel wouldn’t see the sudden guilty look on her face. What if that was the reason? What if Brittany hated her so much that she just drank to forget seeing her?

_Or…what if she hates herself?_

Santana frowned and poured dishwashing liquid into the warm water. Was that the whole reason behind the mess that was her and Brittany? The Head Cheerio, the supposed most confident person in school was scared? Scared of what?

She swallowed, but couldn’t ignore the rogue thought.

_Scared of what she feels for you._

* * *

Santana and Quinn walked through the hallways of McKinley before homeroom, chatting about possible song choices for Regionals when they saw a hoard of Cheerios heading their way.

“Make way for the royalty,” Santana muttered with a smirk.

“I hate how they strut around like everyone should bow down to them,” Quinn replied under her breath.

Surprisingly, the Cheerios stopped in front of the two girls.

“Um, can we help you?” Santana asked with a frown.

“Compliments of Brittany,” the girl in front said, stepping back.

Before either Santana or Quinn could react, they were covered in ice-cold slushie.

“Captain Pierce advises _both_ of you to remember your places in this school and that things will only get worse if you try to start any shit.”

Santana was shaking with rage. She opened her eyes, ignoring the burning sensation and grabbed the retreating girl’s ponytail. She yanked it and dragged the screaming girl against the nearest locker.

“Why don’t you tell your beloved _captain_ that only a coward sends her minions to do her dirty work.”

“Calling me a coward, Lupus?”

Santana whirled around, releasing the whimpering Cheerio and glared at Brittany.

“You know what the definition of insanity is, Wonder Barbie?” she seethed, stepping closer.

“I’m sure you’ll enlighten me,” Brittany sound, sounding bored.

“It’s doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result. What makes you think that slushing me again is going to make any difference?”

Brittany let out a humourless laugh. “And what makes you think that I expect a different result? The one that has you drenched in ice-cold chunks is pretty satisfying for me.”

“Santana?”

She knew that Rachel wouldn’t have had anything to do with her and Quinn being slushied, but familiar distrust of the bourgeois filtered back into her subconscious.

“Don’t think that you’re gonna get a rise out of me anymore, Pierce. I know I’m late in realising this, but you’re not worth it. You’re not worth _anything_. Not to me.”

She could’ve sworn that she saw Brittany’s steely gaze waver for a moment, but she ignored it and turned to her best friend.

“You okay, Quinn?”

“Yeah. I just can’t see anything.”

“I got you.” Santana helped her up, her own vision burning something fierce. She felt someone helping Quinn on the other side, guiding them towards the locker rooms. She glanced at Rachel. Her jaw was set and her brown eyes were flashing, daring anyone to cross her path. If Santana didn’t have slushie creeping down her back, she’d find it very hot.

Santana glanced back and saw Brittany still standing where she was, staring at the lockers. Brittany suddenly shook herself and spun on her heel, walking quickly in the other direction.


	26. Chapter 26

Brittany held her head high as she walked down the corridors. She smirked at how the freshman dropped their heads when she passed them.

_This is how it should be. I’m done playing by Rachel’s rules. She’s the only one that benefits because it gets her into Santana’s pants._

She ignored the little voice in her head that said she’d been there too. She shook it off angrily. She was _done_ thinking about Santana. She was done with all the crap surrounding Santana. She had done something to her, had somehow fucked her up.

Brittany was taking back control.

Shay knocked once on Coach Em’s door and opened it, not waiting for a response.

“Pierce?” Coach Em asked in a nasally voice, frowning. “Did I summon you?”

“No, I came here because it’s time that the Cheerios were instilled back at the top in this school. We’ve sat back for weeks now and it’s got us nowhere. I, for one, plan to bring home that Regionals trophy in three weeks and celebrate with the simultaneous dumpster tossing of seven freshmen.” She smirked.

Coach Em narrowed her eyes. “While I appreciate your rekindled passion for the destruction of lesser beings, what about your bestie? She seemed pretty adamant that we’re not doing ourselves any favours by perpetually asserting our authority.”

“Well, I’m not saying that Rachel’s allegiance needs to be questioned, but she does have some blind spots when it comes to that ridiculous show choir.”

“I heard you won.”

Brittany scoffed. “No, Rachel and I won. We made everyone else look a hundred times better. They would never have come close to winning without us.”

“Okay, if they’re kept happy then I’m happy.”

“Wait, what?” Brittany asked, furrowing her brows.

“I want you to stay in Glee.”

“What?”

“I don’t care what you and your Cheerios do to the losers in this establishment, but as long as you present the idea that you’re on their side when it matters – that is, performing in their little club – then everyone wins.”

_How the fuck does everyone win? I don’t want to be in that club!_

“Coach, I-“

“This is non-negotiable, Pierce. If you don’t like it, deposit your uniforms outside my office by end of day.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. She needed the Cheerios. God, more than ever she needed the protection of her uniform.

“No problem, Coach. I was also thinking that we need to kick out Natasha, Dezi and Natalie.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

Coach Em smiled. “This is why I chose you.”

Brittany grinned. “Thank you, Coach. I just wanted to check that we were on the same page about things. Is there anything else that you’d like?”

“Nope.”

Brittany didn’t offer a farewell, nor did she receive one. She closed the door behind her and headed for her locker, pulling out her phone. She texted Finn and Artie and told them to have as much fun with some freshmen before lunch as they wanted.

“Brittany!”

She rolled her eyes and slipped her phone into her bra.

“You yelled?” she said dryly, minutely slowing her steps so that Rachel could catch up with her.

“What the hell, Britt! I thought that it was clear!”

“Guess it got a little blurry,” Brittany replied. “Slushies tend to fuck up the eyesight a bit. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Why them?”

“Why not?” Brittany shrugged.

“Oh, no. You’re not pulling that nonchalant shit with me. I know you. Out of everyone in this school, you chose to slushie Santana and Quinn. Why?”

“Because they are _not_ better than me,” Brittany snapped, glaring at her best friend. “And they needed to be reminded of that. Do I need to remind you as well, Berry?”

“Remind me that you’re so completely insecure about yourself that you need a uniform to hide behind?” Rachel spat. “No, thanks. I got that memo.”

She spun away and stalked off towards the bathrooms. Brittany felt her temper spike.

_It’s not because she’s right, it’s not. But I can’t let her just say shit like that._

She set her jaw. That afternoon’s practice was going to be a big wake up call for Rachel.

* * *

Santana grimaced as she felt a sticky spot in her hair. It was like that slushie had extra syrup or something. It felt way stickier than previous slushies. She pushed her tray along the cafeteria line, wrinkling her nose at the options available.

“Hey, can I get that last salad?” she asked the serving lady.

“Actually, Martha, you can give that to me,” a familiar voice added.

Santana turned around and glared at Brittany, who simply raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“Several. Number one being that you’re invading my personal space. Number two being that you’re a bitch. Number three being that you’re a coward. Number four-“

“Ugh, you’re so annoying,” Brittany muttered. “Seriously, do you ever shut up?”

“No,” Santana snipped. “How are you _so_ unfathomably arrogant?”

“How do you even have conversations?” Brittany chuckled. “I can’t even understand the shit that comes out of your mouth.”

“Hardly surprising.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Clearly, I’ll have to spell it out. You obviously banged your last brain cell out with Tweedledum and Tweedledee on your Saturday night excursion to Wonderland.”

“I’d be careful if I were you, Lupus. You’re vastly outnumbered.”

“Yeah, out in the open. That’s where you do all your battles. So brave, Captain Britt. Really.” She started clapping loudly and slowly.

“Fuck you, Santana.”

“No thanks,” she hissed back. “I regret the day I fucked you, though.”

Brittany’s eyes went wide and she stepped back. Santana saw that guarded and hurtful look flash across her face, but she shook her head. She’d given Brittany so many chances and she had thrown every single one back in her face.

She let out a disbelieving laugh. “You know what? I’m not doing this anymore. I’m done playing your fucked up games. What you say, what you do, I don’t care anymore. If you want to go through life being a complete bitch and so insecure about who you are, then fine. But don’t try and make me feel bad for you. Because I’m done feeling _anything_ for you.”

She abandoned her tray and walked away, shaking her head. She watched people whispering as she walked past, towards the Glee table.

“San!”

She almost walked into Rachel in her haste.

“Not now, Rach,” she mumbled.

“No, you don’t get to run away from me,” she said firmly, grabbing Santana’s hand. “What happened?”

Santana sighed. “Your best friend is officially the craziest person that I have ever met and I am _so_ done with her bullshit. I mean it, I’m done with her.”

“Yeah, it’s very tempting to turn my back on her.”

Santana arched an eyebrow. “But she’s your best friend.”

“Yeah, she is, and I love her, but sometimes I really just… I don’t understand her.”

“Well, if you don’t then I don’t think anyone has a hope to.”

Rachel nibbled on her bottom lip and Santana just sighed. “I’ll see you after school?”

“No, I’ll come have lunch with you.”

“I kinda lost my appetite.”

Rachel shrugged and brought the hand she was holding up to kiss it. “Come on.”

They walked to the Glee table and Santana sat on the end of the bench, straddling it. Rachel sat in front of her, her back against Santana’s front. Santana wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Did we miss the memo?” Sam asked in confusion.

“There wasn’t one,” Rachel replied.

“Are you two back together?” Mercedes asked. “Because if Saturday night was any indication, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Santana smiled and nuzzled Rachel’s exposed neck.

“Rachel.”

Both her and Santana turned disinterestedly to the owner of the voice.

“You’re needed at our table,” Brittany announced.

“I’m good.”

Gasps echoed around the cafeteria.

“Perhaps you misheard me.”

“No, I heard you just fine.”

“And you’re refusing your captain?”

“No, I’m refusing _you_ , Brittany. This is me, _Rachel_ , telling you, _Brittany_ , to fuck off and leave me to enjoy my lunch in peace.”

“Bad move, Rachel,” Brittany murmured, before spinning on her heel and heading back to the Cheerios table.

“You sure that was a good idea?”

“I don’t care anymore, Santana. Really, I don’t. I used to get that all the shit she pulled was because she was Head Cheerio, but she’s getting malicious for no reason now and I’ve tried being nice, I’ve tried being a bitch, I’ve tried tough love, but it’s like talking to a brick fucking wall. I don’t know what else to do. All I know is that I’m done standing aside and watching her fuck around with people.”

“You’re all kinds of sexy when you’re being rebellious,” Santana teased, wrapping her other arm around Rachel’s waist, securing her against her chest.

“Dear God, some of us are eating,” Mercedes said in exasperation.

“We’re not,” Santana said seriously.

“Where’s Quinn?” Rachel enquired.

“Uh, dunno, actually.” Santana looked around, but saw no sign of her bestie. “Hey, any idea why Brittany went for Quinn? I mean, I know why she slushied me, but I thought her and Quinn were sort of okay?”

Rachel lifted a shoulder. “I wouldn’t put it past her to still be pissed about the whole Puck situation.”

Santana huffed. “Brittany and her inexplicable obsession with idiotic meatheads.”

“I don’t wanna talk about her anymore,” Rachel mumbled, leaning her head back against Santana’s shoulder.

Santana smiled and started humming into her neck, slowly rocking them to an imaginary beat. Whatever drama Brittany concocted, it didn’t matter anymore. She was back with Rachel, where she wanted to be, and as far as she was concerned, Brittany and her bucket loads of drama could take a flying leap of a cliff.

* * *

Quinn had one class with Brittany Pierce, and that class was gym. After what had happened that morning, she was determined to talk to her. She didn’t mention anything about her plan to Santana, especially after what she’d heard had gone down at lunch.

The word that Santana and Rachel were back together was making the rounds pretty quickly. Of course, she’d known on Saturday night already. The memory of what she’d seen Brittany go through that night and Sunday morning was etched into her brain. Brittany was in trouble – that much was very clear.

“Bitches, don’t take forever!” she heard Brittany call as she entered the locker room from the field.

“Brittany,” she said, walking up to where she was pulling off her shoes.

She glanced up and shook her head. “What, Fabray? If you’re looking for an apology, keep walking.”

“I’m not. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Your feelings for Santana.”

Quinn was immediately slammed against the locker, blue eyes flashing furiously. “Don’t say shit like that!” she hissed. “What the hell is wrong with you? Someone could have heard!”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” she inquired, keeping her gaze steady. “Is that why you’re doing everything you can to push her away?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Fabray. You don’t know shit about me. Just because you got slushied, doesn’t mean you get to spread rumours.”

She let her go and shook her head, reaching into her locker for her phone. Quinn saw how her hands were shaking.

“It’s not a rumour,” she said softly. “I saw you, Brittany. I saw you when you found them in Rachel’s bedroom yesterday morning and I saw you drinking yourself into oblivion. I’m guessing you probably saw them on Saturday night, which prompted your…high levels of intoxication.”

“God, what is it with you gleeks? Can’t you speak fucking normally? Yes, I got blind as fuck drunk. Why? Because I wanted to. End of story.”

“You know what’s going to happen if you keep ignoring this, Brittany? You’re going to self-destruct. Your relationship with Rachel is already on thin ice because you’re trying to have the best of all worlds without actually giving anything back.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, okay? Just leave it alone. Go find someone else to psychoanalyse.”

She pulled her shirt over her head and threw it angrily in her locker.

“Brittany-“

“Shut up,” she cut in furiously. “Stop fucking talking.”

“Rachel and Santana are getting stronger every day that they’re together. You do realise that you’re going to have to see them together every day, right?”

She saw Brittany pause slightly, before pulling her shorts down. “So? Rachel can fuck whoever she wants.”

“Really? You’re okay with knowing that she’s having sex with Santana very single day? You’re okay with seeing them kissing and holding hands and-“

“Jesus, yes! It’s fine! What the fuck is your point?”

Quinn shook her head. “You can’t deny this forever. You need to tell Santana how you feel. You need to tell her before she and Rachel become really serious.”

Brittany snorted. “You’re delusional. I don’t have feelings for Santana. Other than occasionally having to check my gag reflex. So why don’t you turn around and march your Dr. Louise act somewhere else, huh?”

“You think that after what’s happened between the two of you that Santana wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t felt anything?”

Quinn smirked. That had Brittany’s attention. She folded her arms across her chest. “Come clean with Santana and let her decide.”

She saw the words churning in Brittany’s head and turned around, her job done. Brittany needed to confront what she was dealing with and the best way to do that would be to talk to Santana.

* * *

_Talk to Santana? Was she fucking high?_

Speaking of…

Brittany pulled her wet hair into a high pony and checked her reflection in the full-length mirrors all over the Cheerios locker room. Picture of perfection. She smirked. She was a straight high school cheerleader. No matter what Quinn Nosey Fabray thought, she didn’t have feelings for Santana.

She didn’t.

She _didn’t._

She groaned inwardly, slammed her locker shut and headed out of the locker room. A familiar giggle caught her attention and she made the mistake of looking to her left and seeing Santana kissing Rachel all over her face, smiles on both their lips. Santana paused and looked at Rachel for a moment. The tenderness in that look punched Brittany in the gut. She quickly backtracked and stumbled through the locker room doors.

_Shit, shit, shit! This is not good._

She didn’t have feelings for Santana. It was just the gag reflex like she’d said to Nosey.

_What about the tears yesterday? What about drinking to forget?_

“No,” she whispered desperately. “I can’t! I can’t!”

What the hell did she need to do to get rid of them? She had to get rid of the stupid feelings somehow. She couldn’t have feelings for Santana. She _couldn’t_.

_I have to do something._

* * *

Santana kissed Rachel on the cheek and headed to the locker room for some water before she went to her Physics class.

She hummed as she opened the door and she got the feeling that someone was watching her. She stopped her humming and looked up, but didn’t see anyone.

_Pierce has got you paranoid. Chill the fuck out._

She started humming again and headed for the sinks. She bypassed the regular sinks and headed for the Cheerios part of the locker room. She did it mostly because if Brittany knew, she’d be pissed. It was her own little rage against the machine.

“What are you doing in here?”

_Well, what are the odds?_

Santana turned around and leaned against the sinks. “Oh, fearful Brittany, please don’t give me detention!” she said in a pitiful voice. “I promise I only peed in the showers once.”

Brittany frowned and Santana matched it. Why wasn’t she being snarky and bitchy? And _why_ was she looking at her with that familiar piercing look into her soul. She stood up straight. With their history, looks like that generally led to very bad things. Things that she wasn’t going to do again. Ever again.

“Santana-“

“Sorry,” she said quickly, practically sprinting out of the locker room.

* * *

Brittany punched the locker with the side of her fist. Fucking Fabray. Now she looked like a fucking idiot. Who the hell did she think she was, putting stupid ideas like that in her head? She was going to pay for that. Brittany grabbed her phone and texted Artie. He had no soul. He’d do whatever she told him to.

Once the message had been sent, she went out towards the fields, heading for the manky old couch where she’d had a surreal heart to heart with Afroboy. As she got closer, she saw his familiar head of unruly hair and promptly flopped onto the couch.

“Hit me, Afroboy,” she ordered, in lieu of a greeting.

“Okay,” he said uncertainly, and gave her a soft slap on the arm.

She looked at him pointedly. “No, dumbass, of your joint.”

“You want me to hit you with my joi-oh! I get it!” He grinned and handed over the blunt.

Brittany inhaled deeply, savouring the sensation that immediately hit her as she held the smoke in. She exhaled and immediately took another hit.

“Don’t hog it!” Blaine whined.

Brittany rolled her eyes and passed it back to him. She leaned back and exhaled, watching the smoke evaporate into the air above her.

“So, Afroboy, how’s your mystery woman?”

He stared at her. “How did you know?”

“You told me.”

“I did?”

“Hmmmm.”

“What’s her name?”

“I dunno. You never told me that.”

“Oh. Then I have no idea who she is!” he said with a laugh.

Brittany stared at him and rolled her eyes.

“How’s your mystery woman?” Blaine asked suddenly.

Brittany coughed the smoke she’d just inhaled. “What did you say?”

“Well, if I was talking about a mystery woman, then I think you were too.”

“Why would I be talking about a mystery woman?” Brittany asked suspiciously.

Blaine squinted at her. “You didn’t speak about a mystery woman?”

Brittany paused, weighing her options. Considering the shit that she’d been told earlier, she decided that playing it safe was her best option.

“No, I’m not into women.”

“Oh, that’s a pity.”

“Why?” She took another drag.

“Because women are super soft and pretty and they smell really good.”

She had a flash of feeling Santana’s naked body against hers in the sauna. It had been very soft and she had smelled good.

Wait, no. No!

She shook her head, making herself dizzy.

_Shit, I’m fucking high._

She didn’t actually care about that. Weed made her a little loose. More specifically, made her tongue a little loose.

“Can we just smoke?” she snapped. “I don’t come here to talk.”

“We could sing?” Blaine suggested, lighting another joint.

Brittany stared at him for a few moments, then shrugged. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

Quinn headed to her car after school, rummaging around in her bag for her keys. Just as she’d found them, she walked straight into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Are you…” she trailed off when she saw who it was. “Never mind. Can’t say that I care if you’re okay.”

Artie Abrams smirked. “You know the drill boys.”

He stepped aside and Quinn was hit with slushies from every angle. She froze as her body went into shock from the cold.

“Up and at ‘em!” Artie said snapping his fingers.

Quinn felt herself being lifted up. “No, no, no,” she whimpered, realising where they were headed. “Please, not there.”

She tried struggling, but she really had no hope against three football guys. As they approached the dumpsters, they purposefully took her to the one closest to the cafeteria, where all the kitchen scraps were thrown out. Artie opened the dumpster and let out a disgusted laugh.

“Damn, that shit stinks, yo.”

Quinn squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath as the meatheads swung her into the stinky dumpster. She felt herself sink into whatever had been tossed into the dumpster before her and the smell engulfed her senses. Her stomach lurched and she whimpered out loud.

She heard Artie and the other football guys laughing and giving each other high fives. Tears stung her eyes and she knew it wasn’t because of the slushie. This attack had been personal. This was Brittany retaliating for her being nosy.

_So this is what I get for trying to help her. Fine. She wants to dig her own grave, then fine. I tried and I very obviously failed._

She waited until the voices of the footballers got farther away before she tried getting up. Her foot was covered in mashed potato and she was covered in foul smelling sauces. Who the hell knew if they were even sauces?

It took her a while to stand up in the mess and she put her hands on the edge of the dumpster to help herself out of the metal container.

“Quinn?”

“San?”

She pulled herself up and saw Santana looking at her in horror. Her eyes flashed.

“Who?” she growled.

“Just help me out,” Quinn said wearily.

Santana jumped into action, not caring that the smelly crap was getting on her. She sat on the edge of the dumpster, using her impeccable balance and strength to lift Quinn climb out.

“Okay, you’re out. Now tell me who I’m going to kill.”

Quinn sighed. “It was the football guys. But…”

“But?” Santana pressed.

She frowned. “How did you even know I was in there?”

“You’re changing the subject,” Santana snapped. “But I found your bag on the ground covered in slushie. When I saw the trail leading here, I kinda figured.”

“Thank you,” Quinn said softly, grimacing at how much crap had got stuck to her because of the slushies. “Ugh, this is going to be a bitch to get out.”

“Quinn, please,” Santana begged. “This is beyond not cool. I’m frigging shaking here because I’m so mad. Who did this?”

“Brittany,” she eventually whispered.

“Bitch is dead,” Santana vowed. “I mean it. This time, no playing nice. That bitch is so fucking dead.”

“Santana, please. She…”

“She what? She’s too chicken shit to actually throw a slushie herself that she gathers her minions to do her evil bidding? I don’t care, Quinn. The person who orders the hit is just as guilty as the person who pulls the trigger.”

“Yes, I agree, but-“

“Oh, no. Hell no. You are not defending her. Quinn, nothing can excuse this kind of bullying.”

“She’s just confused!” Quinn eventually yelled.

Santana frowned. “No, I’m confused.” She pointed to her face. “See this? This is confused. Because I don’t even know what that means. Brittany is not confused. Brittany is a malicious bitch who is going to finally be put in her place.” She took a deep breath. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“No, it’s fine. I can take myself home.”

“You sure?” Santana asked, concern lacing her features. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No. Whatever crap was in there cushioned my fall.” She wrinkled her nose. “God, it really smells.”

Santana pulled a similar face. “Remind me never to eat at the cafeteria again.”

Quinn cracked a small smile. “Santana, please don’t do anything reckless.”

Santana’s eyes went dark – which was saying something, considering they were already quite a dark shade of brown. “I’m not letting this go.”

“Please, just…don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Santana laughed bitterly. “When it comes to Wonder Barbie, my track record is full enough of regretful decisions. I don’t plan to add to it.”

“Do you regret it?” Quinn asked suddenly.

Santana’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“I mean…I only ask because it’s happened a number of times.”

“How do you know?” she whispered.

Quinn frowned. Wait… “Oh my God! You had another something with her!”

“Ssssh!” she hissed. “God, what is wrong with you?”

“When? And why didn’t you tell me?”

Santana sighed in frustration. “The night before Sectionals. I went out to look for her because I was, I dunno, worried or whatever. I found her in this ballroom and she was dancing and she looked…sad. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so sad.”

_This is what must have prompted Brittany’s change of heart. The morning of Sectionals, she started bitching us out again._

“She saw me watching her and I ran, but she chased me and caught me and…kissed me.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did you kiss her back?”

Santana glared at her. “Why would you ask me that?”

Quinn smirked. “You did.”

“Yeah, so what?” Santana threw up her hands. “Ugh! This is so fucked up. You don’t even know how fucked up it is.”

“No, I’m pretty aware,” she replied quietly. “But if you keep kissing her back and reacting to her when she comes onto you, then don’t you think that means something?”

“Yeah, it means I need to get my head checked because there’s something wrong with me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Stop Dr. Phil-ing me! Christ, Quinn! I thought you were on my side here!”

“I am!” Quinn protested. “I am, I promise. I’m just trying to understand _why_ you keep giving into Brittany. That’s all I’m asking.”

Santana sighed, all the fight leaving her. “If I knew that, I would tell you. All I can say is that when she looks at me in a certain way, it’s like I’m hypnotised and my body just reacts. I honestly can’t control it. Only after something happens does my logic kick in and then I push her away.” She shook her head. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think that you and Brittany need to talk. Especially since you and Rachel are back together. You really don’t want a repeat of what happened before.”

“No, I know. I really don’t want that either. I mean, I don’t want to _be_ with Brittany or anything like that.”

“You don’t?” Quinn couldn’t help but ask.

Santana stared at her in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Well, what about her would deter you about dating her?”

“Besides the fact that she’s completely mental?”

“Yet you continually hook up with her.”

Santana groaned. “Fine, okay. Point made. But, realistically, Quinn. Brittany is not the relationship type. Besides the fact that she refuses to believe that she’s anything other than straight, she’s got a pile of issues so high that would put the Eiffel Tower to shame.”

“Do you have feelings for her?”

“For Brittany?” Santana laughed.

“I think it’s a legitimate question,” Quinn argued with a frown.

“No. Definitely not.”

“So the hypnosis that she puts you under has nothing to do with any feelings for her?”

“No,” Santana replied, sounding a little uncertain. “It’s just physical. Besides, I don’t even know why we’re speculating about this. I’m with Rachel and I plan to be with her for a while. Brittany’s being a total bitch again – speaking of, I shall bid thee adieu to go and verbally abuse some bottle blonde hiney.”

“You know she’s not a bottle blonde, right?”

Santana sighed. “Just go with it. It makes my insult better.”

Quinn shook her head. “Just…don’t go overboard.”

“ _Moi_? Never.” Santana leaned in for a hug and paused as she got closer.

“It’s okay,” Quinn said with a resigned groan. “Go.”

* * *

Brittany stretched, enjoying the respite her muscles was getting after a good yoga session in her backyard. She couldn’t remember what positions she’d gotten herself into on Saturday night, but she certainly felt it.

She pulled a face at the thought of having a threesome with those two guys. She was kind of glad she didn’t really remember it. She shuddered and felt suddenly dirty. She glanced at the inviting pool and pulled her shirt off, leaving her in her short workout shorts and sports bra. She dived in, relishing in the cool water after working up a sweat on the yoga mat. She surfaced and heard banging.

She looked back towards her house in alarm. The twins were at friends or some shit and her parents were…wherever. She’d hardly seen them since they’d returned from London.

She climbed out of the pool, suddenly realising that she didn’t have a towel. Who the hell could it even be?

She stood at the entrance to the living room. “It’s open!” she yelled.

Her eyes widened when the door flew open and Santana Lopez stood there. Brittany almost could see that smoke rising from her head.

“You!” Santana thundered, stalking towards her. “I have a good mind to rip your fucking head off, bitch!”

“Why now?” Brittany asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but a really pissed off Santana was kinda scary.

Also, kinda hot.

_No! She’s not! Fuck!_

“You know exactly what, Brittany. What the hell did Quinn ever do to you?”

She smirked. So the boys had got her good. She was glad. It was time for Santana to also realise that she couldn’t just mess her around.

_Who’s messing whom around here?_

“She only got her just desserts.”

“For what?” Santana asked in exasperation.

Brittany opened her mouth to tell her, but she froze with the realisation that if she told her the truth, Santana would push her to reveal what Quinn had told her and she definitely didn’t want that.

“Uh, what do you think? For fucking around with my man when he was with me.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Santana pinched the edge of her nose and shook her head. She stepped past Brittany and onto the grass of her backyard. “What are we, in fucking middle school? People make their own decisions. Unless, of course, they’re a mindless drone controlled by you. Puck made his own choice to pursue Quinn. That was his decision. Quinn didn’t even know that you two were together. Besides, what do you even care? It’s not like you were left wanting. Had a replacement meathead lined right up.”

Brittany chuckled. Santana was right. She did have a lot of meatheads lined up. And they were all willing. Not so much able, but definitely willing.

“Hey.” Santana snapped her fingers in front of her face.

“What?” she asked bored.

“I want you to apologise to Quinn.”

“Okay, sorry, Quinn.”

Santana clenched her fists and Brittany raised an eyebrow in challenge. “You gonna hit me, Lupus?”

She was breathing heavily and Brittany took a moment to appreciate how the passion just radiated off her. Whether it was anger, joy, desire…

_Wait, what? No, not thinking about desire. Nope._

“I’m not fucking around here. Apologise to Quinn _properly_ and I might consider this little infraction forgotten.”

“And what would stop me from just doing something else? Maybe I’ll hit your home girl, Mercedes. Or your weed buddy, Afroboy. Hmmm, the possibilities are endless.”

“Why?” Santana asked. “Why now? What changed that you decided that being the bitch was actually worth it again? I thought we’d kind of reached a common ground.”

“A common ground?” Brittany scoffed. “Please. What’s the point in playing nice when it didn’t get me any of the shit being a bitch did? Did it ever occur to you that it’s actually physically impossible for me not to be a bitch? Maybe it’s so ingrained in my DNA that I just _have_ to be the biggest bitch that you’ve ever met.”

“And, what? I’m you nemesis or something?”

Brittany shrugged. “Whatever. There’s always the idiot in the story who thinks that they can handle the big bad on their own. And you know what happens? They always lose.”

“Good always wins,” Santana argued.

Brittany snorted. “Yeah, in movies. I’m referring to this little thing called real life. You know, the thing you’re completely failing at? Found a way to completely change people’s way of thinking yet? No? Hmmm.” Brittany headed back towards the pool. She felt the need to cool down.

“Hang on, I’m not done talking to you,” Santana said, grabbing her arm.

Brittany paused and looked at her, then down at her hand on her arm, and back up into her eyes. “You know, the last time this happened, I was the one grabbing you. So, are you gonna kiss me now or something?”

Santana dropped her arm and stepped back. “W-what? No. _No_. That was a mistake.”

“A mistake? You kissed me back.” She turned to face Santana fully.

“I was taken by surprise,” she argued.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you were telling yourself when your hands were all over my body.”

She had no idea where her sudden confidence had come from. She never talked about what had happened between them. She barely acknowledged it for fear of accepting that it meant something more than…whatever it was. But something that Quinn had said had played over and over in her head.

_You think that after what’s happened between the two of you that Santana wouldn’t have done it if she hadn’t felt anything?_

“Brittany, w-what happened was a mistake. You said that yourself! You’re always the one that initiates these things and then pretends that nothing ever happened. Your mood swings change so fast you give me whiplash.”

Brittany send her a smile and she saw Santana’s eyes widened. She back further away.

“No, no, no. You’re not allowed to look at me like that.”

“Why not, Santana? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Just…stop it.”

“I thought that it meant nothing. If it meant nothing then why can’t I look at you how I want.”

Santana stopped and Brittany had to stop her stepping forward to prevent her crashing into the brunette.

“What did you say?” Santana asked.

Brittany rolled her eyes. “I make you uncomfortable.”

“You said ‘why can’t I look at you how I want’.”

_Oh, shit._

“Th-that’s not what I meant,” Brittany said quickly, backtracking towards the pool.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to pretend that you didn’t say that when, for the first time since all this shit went down, we’re actually talking about it.”

“What are we talking about, Santana? We agreed that _nothing_ happened.”

“Right. Nothing happened, Brittany. Sure. Let me ask you this. Do you have feelings for me?”

_Shit._

“No,” she said determinedly, staring at the water. “Do you have feelings for me?”

“No,” Santana replied easily and Brittany knew she was being honest. She hated how her gut clenched painfully.

“Fine, then. We’re agreed. No feelings, nothing happened. I think you should go now.”

“Hang on. Look at me.”

She refused, keeping her eyes steadfastly on the water. She couldn’t crumble. She’d already shot herself in the foot by talking about all this shit.

“Brittany, look at me.”

“Why, what difference would it make?”

“Because I’ll know if you’re lying.”

She scoffed. “You can’t tell that.”

“Actually, yes I can. You think that you hide yourself pretty well, but your tell is in your eyes.”

_Oh, no. She’s not looking at my eyes. Hell no._

“Oh, look, our show and tell time is up for today,” she said instead. “You opened the door, don’t let it hit you when you close it on your way out.”

“No.”

She couldn’t help but look at her. “No?”

Santana set her jaw, determination flashing in her eyes. “I’m sick of dancing around whatever this is. We can’t change what happened in the past, but I have a good thing going with Rachel and I’m not about to fuck that up again. Brittany, we need to figure this out.”

“Fine, then answer me this,” Brittany said. “Why, if you never had feelings for me, did you fuck me next to your garage?”

Santana opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, and closed it again.

“Honestly, I wish I had a definite answer for you. I don’t know why.”

“Did you feel nothing?”

Santana looked at her incredulously. “Really? You think that I’d do that if I was an empty shell. Not all of us treat sex as an exercise routine.”

Brittany narrowed her eyes. “So you did feel something?”

“Yes! But that’s not the point! I’ve kind of accepted the fact that I have this weird, inexplicable pull to you.”

_She…what?_

“A pull?”

“Yeah.” Santana sighed and rubbed her face against her hands. “I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before, okay? I’m really into Rachel. Like, really into her. I see us going somewhere. But then you come along and I don’t even know what the fuck is going on because you…”

She trailed off when Brittany stepped right in front of her, so close that she could feel her quickened breaths on her neck.

“Because I what?” Brittany whispered.

“Stop this,” Santana croaked, stepping back. “Seriously, Brittany. It’s not cool. We are not a good idea.”

“We’re not a good idea?”

“No,” Santana said vehemently, shaking her head. “We’re like the worst idea ever. You’re a commitment-phobe and frigging sex maniac and I’m looking for something deeper than that.”

“What, love?”

Santana nodded.

“And you don’t think I can do that?”

Santana laughed. “You’re actually asking me that? No, Brittany, I don’t think you can. This whole thing started almost two months ago and this is the first time that you’re even able to talk about it. I mean, are you gay? Or, I dunno, bisexual maybe?”

Brittany froze. Screamed words came back to her and she started shaking her head. “No, no, I’m not. I’m not any of that.”

“Okay, you do realise that you were just arguing about being in a relationship with me. I’m a girl. You can’t be straight and be in a relationship with a girl, Brittany.”

“Fine, then why are we even talking about it?”

_Things are getting out of control and fast._

Doing the first thing that came into her mind, she turned and jumped into the pool, staying at the bottom for as long as her lungs allowed her to.

“Brittany!” she heard Santana shout in exasperation. “Stop fucking running away from me!”

_She needs to leave. We need to stop talking._

“Go away!” she shouted back, her back to Santana.

“No fuck this. I’m done pretending that this shit didn’t happen, Brittany! I’m sick of secrets and lying and avoiding each other.”

“Fine!” Brittany snapped, whirling around and wading towards the steps. “Fine, this is me not avoiding whatever this is. Would you do it again?”

Santana flushed and dropped her eyes.

“Would you?” Brittany pressed, stepping out of the pool, water dripping around her. “Would you take me against your garage wall and fuck me with your fingers?”

“Brittany-“

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“No,” she said quietly.

_Wow. Well, that feels like shit._

“Fine,” she said, her voice cracking a little. “We’ve established that you don’t want me and I don’t need you so can we accept that we’ve discussed this? Can we move on?”

Santana swallowed. “Brittany, look at me.”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, willing her inner strength to hold out for the question she was pretty sure she knew Santana was going to ask. When she opened her eyes, she met a conflicted set of brown eyes. She waited.

“Do you have feelings for me?” she asked quietly.

“If I say yes, will you leave?” Brittany replied shortly.

Santana shook her head. “That’s not an answer. I want you to be honest. I’d like the animosity between us to stop. Wouldn’t you?”

“Not particularly,” she replied flippantly.

Santana sighed. “Answer the question.”

“The last time I asked myself that question, we ended up with your fingers deep inside me,” Brittany stated.

“Jesus,” Santana whispered, shaking her head.

“So, Santana, if I say yes, are you going to fuck me? Are you going to let me fuck you? Oh, maybe we could do it in the pool. That’s always fun. Alternatively, we’ve got an array of lounge chairs, there’s the guest bedroom that I believe you’re already quite familiar with,” Santana’s eyes widened at that comment, “and then there’s my bedroom. The Holy Grail. Oh, the number of people who’ve begged to see the inside of that room. Well, here you go. You want the full tour?” Her voice was monotonous and devoid of emotion.

Santana just looked at her and shook her head slightly. “I don’t know who’s told you that what you feel is so wrong, or who’s made you feel so worthless that you need to virtually sell your body to feel anything.”

“Shut up,” Brittany snapped. “I’m done with you and your goodie fucking two shoes friends psychoanalysing me like I’m an animal in a cage.”

“But don’t you see? That’s exactly what you are! You’re an animal in this cage created by society, by yourself, by your peers, maybe your parents and their expectations, but-“

_Slap._

Brittany was breathing hard and her hand was stinging. So were her eyes.

“Get out,” she whispered furiously. “As far as I’m concerned, the next time I see you, it will be on the day that we graduate and I’ll be walking out of McKinley’s doors. Whatever happened, whatever _did_ or _didn’t_ happen, it doesn’t matter. Got it? You’re with Rachel so go and make your fucking lady babies until you’re blue in the face. I’ll be here, in my cage, selling my body.”

She pushed past Santana and stormed inside. She looked up and saw the front door closed.

_What…?_

“It was you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She turned slowly towards the couch against the wall.

“How…how much did you hear?” Brittany stammered.

Rachel met her eyes and Britany felt another punch to her gut at the sadness and betrayal. “Everything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posted from ff.net. Originally published between 2012-2014.
> 
> As I'm posting the chapters (30 already written and previously posted), I'm doing a full edit and overhaul as young me didn't believe in editing her work :)
> 
> This is largely due to my Glee rewatch the first week of isolation ;)


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